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iOME 

Strange 

Stories; 

1 A LITTLE LIFE, 

i A LITTLE METAPHYSICS, 

A LITTLE LOVE, 


Jy 


J. WALLACE HOFF. 


SOME STRANGE STORIES. 


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S^OME SJRANGE RORIES: 


A LITTLE LIFE, 

A LITTLE METAPHYSICS, 
A LITTLE LOVE. 


By J. WALLACE HOFF. 




'JUM / 




" W‘/ 


Press of 

THE UNIONIST-GAZETTE. 

S0MERVII.LE, N. J. 

i8q5. 






0 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1895,. 
By J. Wallace Hoff, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, 
at Washington, D. C. 


{( IJZHETHER^ in that spirit-land where our immortal natures 
^ ' still live after their earthly tabernacles have crumbled to their 
original clay^ they have any knowledge of or interest in the affairs of the 
world which they have left behind, we do not know ; it has not been 
revealed to us. 


‘ ‘ The faculties and powers of the soul — especially memory — the strong 
affections of the heart, all belonging to and constituting an mseparable 
part of its spiritual Jtature, as well as its unwearying activity even 
while the body reposes in soundest slumber, render it, to say the least, a 
reasonable conjecture that, though engaged in moral and intellectual 
employments and eyijoyments much nobler and purer than earth’s, they 
are still spectators — interested, curious spectators — in the works of God’s 
providence which relate to his moral creation. 

“ In spite of ourselves, we are all, more or less, believers in the co7n- 
munion of spirits. The tnan who has entirely cast off this prejudice 
or superstition, if we please to term it so, has lost one restraint which 
has been known to exert its salutary influence when even the sense of 
higher accountability has been disregarded .” — SharSWOOD. 


CONTENTS. 



I. 

Felix Mondet, 

PAGE. 

9 

J 

2 . 

Daphne, 

19 


3- 

Metempsychosis, 

29 


4 - 

The Spirit Avenger, 

37 


5- 

The Power of Conscience, 

43 

^/ 

6 . 

And This is Love, 

53 

v/ 

7- 

A Story’s Mission, 

59 


8 . 

A Man’s Experience, 

67 

»/ 

9- 

Frontier Service in ’ 49 , 

79 

V 

lO. 

Baffling a Conspiracy, 

93 


II. 

Little Nell, . 

1^5 


12 . 

The Octopus Syndicate, . 

121 




FELIX MONDET. 



FELIX MON DEL. 



FELIX MONDET. 


F elix MONDET was a dreamer. 

I do not mean to say he was not a worker, for he was. 
He worked for the realization of his dreams, — Position, 
Power, Riches ; for the attainment of those outward evi- 
dences of success that characterized his older friends, the 
Doctor, the Professor, the Judge, the Diplomat, and which 
evidences always stood before his eyes as the most desirable 
of worldly possessions. 

With these practical aims Felix was still a dreamer. 
Though by no means an idler, yet, at twenty-eight, while to 
outward appearances he was on the highroad to success ac- 
cording to the accepted idea, to himself he admitted that 
he was at a standstill. 

He was a plodder, inasmuch that he met and conquered. 
He did not look from an elevated position to command, to 
turn to account, to manipulate. Possibly he lacked con- 
tinuity of purpose, for together with his pursuit of the law 
he coupled other ventures, in commercial lines, which he 
thought, and his friends thought, would prove of the greatest 
money-making value. 

Previously, he had seldom stopped to think. Now he was 
at a critical point in his existence. He thought. His exact 
feelings he could not fathom. His business career confused 
his early training. 

His mother, from his youth up, had sought to instill in 
him Truth, Sobriety, Charity. She was a strong-minded 
woman. Quick to see and to execute; apt to bear up 
under adversity ; ambitious ; a woman with all a woman’s 
instincts and reasoning, which Felix had never analyzed. 


lO 


He owed fifteen years of his training to her. The training 
bears its fruit. 

His father was steady, plodding, successful. To him 
Felix gave little heed. In fact, in reasoning they never 
could agree, — his father and he. 

Felix Mondet, therefore, could not account for his state 
of uncertainty. He tried to succeed. He thought he be- 
lieved. He thought he had a purpose. But on the verge 
of thirty he was beginning to find himself all at sea. He 
felt that he was losing ground, but why? 

With his increase of ventures, his entire time was taken 
up. He became straightened out only to get again tangled 
and involved in his dealings. Withal he became suspicious, 
morose. Persons he thought friends were secret enemies ; 
persons he thought truthful, honest, sincere, he found to be 
deceitful, dishonest, insincere. 

He read of, met, and saw, gigantic swindles, rogues, 
schemes, and, — failures. He wondered at these things — 
that they should exist. He had never thought of them in 
conjunction with his friends the Doctor, the Judge, the 
Professor. They were successful men, as was his own father. 
They were rich, they were powerful, they were respected. 
That they should have met with reverses never entered his 
head. It were impossible. 

To himself Felix was an anomaly. Don’t misunderstand 
his feelings. From a good schooling and university educa- 
tion he became first an employee, then a student, a worker, 
a master. He had reached from a lower plane to a higher. 
His position was secured. 

To the world he was destined to success. To himself, at 
thirty, he was going to pieces. Strive as though he would 
he could not rise above his depression, could not see his 
faults, could not fathom his existence. Could he rely on 
Astrology? Ancient kings did, why not he? His Horo- 
scope foretold the triumphant sign of Saturn, the protection 


of Jupiter, the science of Mercury, the tranquility of the 
Moon, the riches of the Sun, the charity, passion and ten- 
derness of Venus. 

He had left the university with honor, he had busied 
himself faithfully, relaxed himself reservedly, was expectant 
for the future. At thirty, of himself he asked, where was 
his triumph, where his protection, where his tranquility, 
riches, science ? 

Felix Mondet was a worldly man. He worked as he be- 
lieved, that through no other agency than his own efforts 
was his furtherance and success to be attained. Yet he 
believed in the Will, the Occult, the Hereafter. 

Time after time he had tried to satisfy himself of his 
bodily condition, its influences, its scope, its future, and dis- 
position. His material self, the matter from whence all 
things come — what was he ? What was he destined for as 
a collection of molecules? He could trace up to a certain 
point ; had Biblical teachings at his finger’s end ; saw, heard, 
believed, and, — what did he know ? 

He knew who he was, and where he was, but. Whence 
and Whither ? 

And so one being worked and thought. 

Some time after the point had arrived in Felix Mondet’s 
life to which we have alluded, he returned to his rooms after 
a day of anxiety, trouble and thought expended upon a 
knotty legal case. Tired in body and depressed in soul, 
after partaking of a cup of cocoa, he threw himself down on 
a divan, before a cheerful fire, and, little heeding material 
things, was soon in a state of tranquility. 

Through the protecting grace of an all-seeing Eye there 
comes to those in distress, at one time or another, the power 
of traversing the Dark Plain, of divining Right from Wrong, — 
a spiritual foresight ; a protection. 

Characterized as a still, small voice, a Conscience, 
an inner consciousness, what it is has never been 


12 


definitely known. A premonition, a translation. Yes^ 
and No. 

At any rate a fathomless transition for Good or Evil ; a 
warning, a help. Not a worldly state, but a release of the 
astral body from corporeal to spiritual, and thus clearer, 
vision. A condition of cool, collected, unobstructed, undis- 
turbed sight and feeling— a distinct reasoning being with an 
acuteness born of a secret Power. 

In this condition, past, present and future appear to the 
adept like unto an open book. Sight and hearing are mys- 
teriously quickened ; questions and answers become the 
medium of a sensible communication. 

Once the peace of this state is allowed, revelations the 
most far-reaching and protective are had. Out of it, sordid 
realities, hopes, ambitions, defeats — unless heed be given to 
the revelations granted. 

Thus, then, Felix Mondet’s astral body appeared to his 
other, and material, self as an interpreter of life’s tangled 
skein. 

Apart from his surroundings, he hovered, a watch on 
men and things, on means and motives, on causes and 
effects. 

He saw a Universe of goodly pretensions endowed with 
blessings. He saw it inhabited by a people having a correct 
guidance in clear, honest principles. 

He saw Success, and Peace, and Plenty. 

Then, ever and anon, through a vision beset with clouds, 
came glimpses of Discontent, the mother of Strife. 

From thence he compassed the world and met with 
Intrigue and War, Wickedness and Desolation. He saw the 
baleful fruits of their unhappy machinations; the scattering 
and breaking up of the strongest tribes, cities, states, em- 
pires ; he saw one generation wiped out to make way for 
another; he saw both young and old succumb under the 
pestilential breath of Sedition and Heresy, while Fire and 


13 


Flood and Famine and Disease swept onward, destroying all 
that lay within their path. 

Here and there a few escaped unscathed. These few he 
saw happy, cheerful, contented. According to the law of 
survival of the fittest. But why these few.^ 

He was allowed to reason. His friends, the Judge, the 
Professor, the Doctor, were happy. Others, he knew, were 
neither happy nor successful. His ideals were, — so he had 
believed. But now he could see, beneath the calm of the 
surface, that each was harassed by anxieties, doubts, fears, 
even greater than his own. 

Tenacious of a precarious existence which knew not con- 
tent, nor ease, nor relaxation, he saw them struggling in the 
snares of Strategy, Treachery and Deceit, of which they or 
he had little eked. Of themselves, the Evil Trinity was in 
them, but Faith, Honor and Compassion, with their attend- 
ants, Hope, Mercy and Charity, controlled. 

The depressions of the poor and the depressions of the 
rich he now saw with equal force. They were alike in their 
heart -sicknesses. There was despairing Squalor about the 
one and mocking Glamor about the other. 

Man’s inhumanity to man, the hollow Pomp and shallow 
Vanity of a wicked world appealed to his vision and opened 
his eyes to the reality of his earthly surroundings. Clearly, 
his vision was a warning, but what did it portend? 

Then came another aspect. From out of Turmoil and 
Strife came smiling Good, breathing tranquility of mind, 
and heart, and body. An eddy in the maelstrom. 

With this sharp contrast, this promise of further knowl- 
edge, came a desire for a deeper insight and a keener ap- 
preciation. He had the Abstract ; he wanted the Concrete — 
would it be given him ? 

Strive as it might the Spirit of Felix Mondet could not 
pierce beyond the Veil that lay almost within his reach. 
Could the Will serve ? Could concentration of effort obtain 
the Prize for him. 


The intensity of agony that attended his consuming yearn- 
ing to penetrate the Great Secret caused beads of white blood 
to start like pearls from the brow of the material body. 

Slowly commenced the return state of consciousness. 
Would he Know? In his eagerness he groped about, 
clutching, grasping, dragging at the Veil he could not rend. 
But a Power greater than his seemed to bar him his desire. 
The weak worldly vessel slowly regained its ascendancy. 

Then began a silent and mighty battle of Darkness and 
Light. For one instant inky blackness would pall the senses — 
then Light would triumph, only to be vanquished in another 
instant. And thus they struggled, the one with the other. 
It seemed hours to Felix — it was but seconds. At last, as 
Light seemed about to prevail, it was instantly dissipated. 
The Darkness grew in intensity. The atmosphere was 
stifling. Felix gasped for breath. For one instant the air 
was laden with balmy scents, and then there came a crash 
as of a world destroying cataclysm. 

When the reverberating echo had spent its fury, Felix 
realized that the boon of sight was no longer his. 

He was blinded ! 

* * * 

His Soul quivered in the grasp of Fear, the ghoul of a 
morbid and over-wrought mind. His fevered faculties 
contemplated the terror of Unnamable Disaster; he saw the 
Pale Reaper. 

Was this, then. Death. 

* ♦ * 

It was Life. 

Out of the mist, as if stilled by the violence of the tempest 
that had passed, there came a Voice, sweet, low, sad, and 
with the intonation of an inviolate command, saying, 

“ This do I give unto thee ! ” 

* * * 

Once more the sight obeyed the Will. 


15 


. O, ineffable joy, he could see ! 

And, as his dim perceptives struggled with their poor, 
mortal weakness, he saw, in a burst of effulgent glory, — this : 

“ Thou shalt have none other gods but me. 

“ Thou shalt ?iot make to thyself any graven image., nor 
the likeness of anything that is in heaven above or in the 
earth beneath., or in the water imder the earth. Thou shalt 
not bow doivn to them., nor worship the7n. For I the Lord 
thy God am a jealous God, afid visit the sins of the fathers 
upon the children, unto the third aiid fourth generatio7i of 
them that hate 7ne ; and show mercy unto thousands in the7n 
that love 77ie and keep my comma7idments. 

“ Thou shalt not take the 7ia77ie of the Lord thy God in 
vain ; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh 
his name in vain. 

Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath-day. Six 
days shalt thou labor, and do all that thou hast to do ; but 
the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God. Ln it 
thou shalt do no 77ia7iner of work ; thou, a7id thy son, and thy 
daughter, thy man-serva7it, and thy 77iaid-servant, thy cattle, 
and the stranger that is within thy gates. For m six days 
the Lord made heave7i and earth, the sea a7id all that m 
them is, a7td rested the seventh day, and hallowed it. 

'‘'‘LJo7ior thy father a7id thy 7710th er ; that thy days may be 
long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. 

’‘'‘Thou shalt do 710 murder. 

“ Thou shalt 710 1 co77i77iit adultery. 

“ Thou shalt not steal. 

’'‘Thou shalt not bear false witness agamst thy neighbor. 

“ Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house, thou shalt not 
covet thy 7ieighbor's wife, nor his serva7it, nor his 7naid, nor 
his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is his.'^ 





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DAPHNE. 


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DAPHNE, 


C APTAIN, I have not yet been told of that dream of 
yours. You promised to relate it some time ago, 
and I am afraid you are forgetting me.” 

Captain Burdette, an English sea captain, and myself were 
resting in the cabin of the sloop William Rhiel, anchored 
in a quiet cove on Barnegat Bay, after a day’s successful 
outside fishing. I felt in the humor for what Lem, the mate, 
called a “snaky” yam, and proceeded to remind the Captain 
of a promise made to me sometime before. 

It was some minutes after I had ceased speaking that the 
Captain knocked the ashes from his pipe and raising himself 
to a sitting position, turned toward me. 

As my eyes rested on his features, I perceived a pained 
look that surprised me. 

Before I could speak he began : 

“Well, Hal, it is not likely that I would recur to the sub- 
ject, unless importuned, for to me it is not a pleasant one. 
However, my depressed feelings, together with our present 
surroundings, are fit accompaniments to the wierd dream — 
as you might call it, although now I know from its truth it was 
no dream — the yarn I promised in a thoughtless moment.” 

I knew that the old seaman was subject to spells of mel- 
ancholia, and would have begged him to forget my idle 
request, but a second look showed to me that the recital of 
his story would take a burden from his mind, and leave him 
in a more tranquil state. So I held my peace. 

“The incident I am about to relate taught me a lesson in 
the doctrine of Infinity, that I shall never again seek to con- 
trovert. In another way my error was a result of lack of 


20 


■experience, so essential to persons placed in an executive 
capacity. Had I reasoned in the way I now should do, 
the lives of three persons, I have every reason to believe, 
would have been free from a great deal of unhappiness 
and reproach. 

“You know when my poor brother died, he left behind 
him a daughter, about fourteen years old. Her name was 
Daphne. Although a rough sailor, unused to womankind 
after my mother’s death, I was designated by him to care 
for the girl, and to look after her interests. Thus, in a 
moment, by the quenching of the life of one of my own kin, 
I became a father — yes, a father, for I will say that no 
parent ever cherished for his own a fonder love than I ex- 
perienced toward my brother’s child. For, fostering her in 
her loss of her father, caring for her in sickness, and thinking 
of her when far away, she soon became engrafted in my 
nature, a fiber of my being.” 

It was several minutes before he could proceed. I sat in 
silent and sympathetic waiting. 

“ She was in her seventeenth year,” he continued, “ when 
I received a message from Liverpool from the owners of 
the vessel of which I was at that time captain, to prepare 
for an extensive trading voyage. Thinking that the trip 
would do the girl good, and knowing that my own mind 
would be better satisfied if she were with me, I decided to 
take her along, and made preparations accordingly. 

“ At home Daphne had always been the girlish belle of 
the village, but her young heart was as yet untouched by any 
passing fancy. It was a strange thing to me, then, that her 
affection should become almost instantly centered, it ap- 
peared to me, in the person of an American-born lad, 
who seemed to be merely a transient visitor to a foreign 
shore. 

“ Be that as it may, I had in my crew a bright but harum- 
scarum young lad, who, although ambitious, I felt would 


21 


never amount to a great deal for reasons that I cannot very 
well define. 

“ I watched with disfavor the attachment I saw growing 
up between him and Daphne . Daring to a degree bordering 
on recklessness, well formed, and of commanding strength, 
Hewson was just the ideal of a romantic girl who had been 
sheltered from contact with the world. 

“ In a quiet way I did all that I could to discourage their 
evident feelings toward one another, but I saw it grow 
stronger under opposition. 

“ One evening, after looking at the many sides of the case, 
I called Daphne into the cabin, and, as gently as I could, 
placed the matter before her — my doubts and fears, my 
interest in her welfare, and other points and reasons for her 
giving up any idea of a union with the young seaman. 
After I finished speaking, she sat as one dumb, the conflict 
of her emotions showing itself only in her heaving breast 
and glowing eyes. 

“ At last she gained control of herself as if by a mighty 
effort, and tearfully pleaded that she might not be crossed 
in her affection, saying that she could not extinguish her 
love for Hewson, and that wherever that love might lead 
her, she could love but him, and die. 

“ I saw further argument would not avail, and resolved to 
act. As God is my judge, I did it for the best. I may have 
done wrong, but my subsequent heartaches and remorse, 
have more than paid me for my misjudgment. 

“At the next port I discharged the young fellow, telling 
him that his services were no longer needed. Although he 
begged for an explanation, I ofiered none ; he pleaded with 
me to retain him, but I was obdurate, and procured for him 
a berth on another vessel. He went, but I saw that he and 
Daphne had had an understanding, and I was sorely troubled. 

From the time of his departure. Daphne was a different 
girl. Her spirits drooped, and she became melancholy and 


22 


wasted. She was a mute reproach to me. I tried in vain 
to find a satisfying excuse for my action. I did all in my 
power to cheer her up. At every port we touched I took 
her ashore and made extra efforts to surround her with 
luxuries and comforts. After a time she began to regain 
her wonted spirits, and, with the exception of a look of re- 
signed despair that hurt me more than angry words could, 
was quite her old self. 

“ Even then I did not know the full extent of the wrong 
I had done, thinking that, as with many of my own air 
castles, time would soothe and heal her fancied wounds. 

“ Four months after the discharge of Daphne’s lover, 
having almost completed our trip, we ran in to Liverpool 
for supplies and orders. I secured quarters for Daphne at 
a comfortable inn, and left her to do some shopping and to 
enjoy herself as she fancied, while I busied myself with my 
various errands. 

“ While making a trip about the quays one day, I came 
face to face with young Hewson. He appeared utterly un- 
aware of my presence and passed on. Inquiring, I learned 
that he was purser on a composite steamer plying between 
Liverpool and the Bahamas, and that he was much thought 
of by his company. For a moment I feared lest he should 
learn of Daphne’s whereabouts, but, full of my business 
cares, I soon forgot the circumstance. 

“ I did not go into town for four days after meeting with 
Hewson. On the second day I reproached myself for 
neglecting Daphne, and was on the verge of stopping at the 
inn, when I received a batch of letters and papers requiring 
immediate attention. On the fourth day I started out about 
eleven o’clock in the morning, planning a trip that we should 
enjoy together. 

“ The instant I entered the inn a vague feeling of uneasi- 
ness seized upon me. I had a presentiment that something 
was wrong. I hurried to the appartments assigned my niece 


23 


only to find them empty. I inquired of the chambermaid 
if she had seen Miss Burdette. 

“‘Yes/ she had, ‘about ten o’clock the day before, but 
not since.’ 

“ I stood still a moment, in unspeakable distress, trying 
to collect my scattered thoughts. Had the unwished lor 
happened? Had a deeper love than my stunted senses per- 
ceived asserted itself? 

“ Calling a hansom, I was driven to the one spot where I 
intuitively knew I could get the information sought — the 
steamship company’s office. Hastily entering the agent’s 
apartment, I asked if any of their vessels had sailed within 
a day. I was told — 

“‘Yes, one had cleared at twelve o’clock the day before, 
the tide favoring an early departure.’ 

“ My next question would settle all. I asked — 

“ Did your purser have company on the trip out ; a 
young lady?’ 

“‘Mr. Hewson? Yes; his wife,’ the agent replied. ‘It 
was rather unexpected, but he had asked the company’s per 
mission, and I granted him the necessary pass.’ 

“Like one in a stupor, I turned away. Remorse for 
neglecting my trust overcame me. 

“Calmer thoughts came to me, however, and I began to 
see wherein I had erred. But I had builded my hopes on 
a bright future for her, as I knew her private fortune and 
my own would allow of those luxuries that I so much desired 
for her. And now? 

“ Had I only acquiesced, and then endeavored to guide 
her, she would have still been within my knowledge of her 
welfare. Oh, how I wished and prayed for her return when 
explanations would make happiness again ! 

“ That evening, by post, came a letter, the deep pathos of 
which I can never forget. Daphne had gone, gone with her 
idol, the daring sailor of her girlish dreams. She hoped and 


24 


begged that I would forgive her, for, her letter continued, 
‘although against your wishes I know I am doing as my 
heart directs.’ 

“I cannot describe my feelings. Evreything was blank 
to me that night as I tossed about on the chairs and bunk 
in my cabin. I only know that the most earnest prayer 
I ever made went up for her as I tossed about in feverish 
suspense. 

The next day we weighed anchor, and I left behind me a 
spot that I shall never recall without regret and self-reproach. 
Three months later I gave up my command, determined to 
forget as much as possible my old life and to drown my dis- 
appointment in travel. For now I had no object in tying 
myself down to business. 

“Nearly three years from the date of the elopement of my 
niece, I found myself traveling back to Liverpool, in the in- 
terest of my brother’s estate. Arriving at my destination, I 
put up at one of the inns, and after several long and fussy 
consultations with the solicitors, had nearly finished my busi- 
ness. The next day would wind up affairs, and I expected 
to start for a trip across the water. 

“All day I had an unusual feeling of depression, as if 
something were about to happen. I am a believer in pre- 
sentiments, and during my life have had more than one 
forewarning which proved of vital account in saving my hfe. 
But the feeling I experienced at this time was not of a like 
nature, being rather one of expectancy. 

“ I noticed it was the fifteenth of October, the anniversary 
of my niece’s marriage. Retiring, I could not sleep for 
thinking of past occurrences. After awhile I fell into a 
troubled sleep. I had two or three distorted visions, and 
then remember becoming partly conscious. 

“ While in that condition, I plainly and distinctly heard 
the tolling of a ship’s bell. My faculties seemed sharpened 
by this evidence of existing things, and I could distinctly 


25 


see, in a wide expanse of water, surrounded by floating ice, 
a composite steamer, head to the wind, with yards aback 
and spilled sails, rising and falling with the motion of the 
cold, dark blue waves. 

“The steamer's deck, hatches, steering-gear, windlass, and 
all else, covered with a thick coating of ice, were as plain to 
me as a startling reality. Spell-bound, as though held by a 
phantom hand from which there was no escape, I watched 
for the next act of the tragedy as tolled off by the bell, the 
mournful tones of which I could still hear. 

“Soon there emerged from the after-cabin a group of 
officers, bearing between them a corpse wrapped in a shotted 
shroud. With lifted caps, they cautiously trod the ice- 
covered deck to the long boat swinging from the davits. On 
the center seats they reverently deposited their fragile burden, 
and took their places on either side. At the bow, his face 
covered with his hands, sat a young man. Peering past the 
fingers as they were buried in the flesh, in my vision I saw, 
phantom-shaped and ghastly, the features of — Hewson ! 

“ ‘ My God,’ I moaned, ‘ Daphne ! ’ 

“ The boat was lowered, and with measured stroke and 
muffled oar, headed for the deep, still waters of a shel- 
tered cove. 

“ Hal, I watched it all, and, in what must have been a 
very short space of time, I thought of every incident of that 
awful drama, from the first act to the last, over which the 
curtain of death was now rolling. 

“ The return to the ship, the getting under way again, 
were all shown to me, and then I awoke with a start, bathed 
in perspiration. Feeling as though one of my heart-strings 
had suddenly given way, I clutched at my side and sat upright. 

“ Upon getting back my full consciousness, I tried to laugh 
at myself for being so foolish, and, once more laying 
my throbbing temples on my pillow, sank into a deep 
sleep. 

2 


26 


“ The next day, I was inclined to anticipate bad news of 
Daphne, but, finishing my business, I began preparations 
for this trip. 

“Three or four months after my departure, I received a 
packet of letters, remailed to me from my old home. In 
the packet was a letter from Daphne’s husband, giving me 
the full particulars of her death and burial, and in the main, 
they coincided with the details of my revelation of the mem- 
orable fifteenth of October. 

“ It was shortly after the perusal of this letter that I 
promised you the story, and, while it is not a pleasant one, 
it was to me a bitter lesson.” 


METEMPSYCHOSIS. 


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METEMPSYCHOSIS. 



HAT are the limitations of the human soul? Can 


it annihilate time and distance? Can it reach 


through space, disassociated from its human habitation, to 
stand between harm and those we love ? 

Do you believe it ? I will not say that I do not, because 
an experience in my life would seem to show that it is true. 

But I will tell the story, and you may judge for yourself. 

Some years ago, at the time I was “hustling” for busi- 
ness, I was compelled to leave my home for a six weeks’ 
tour in the then not very law-abiding West. 

I was loth to leave my home and my wife, for I remember 
that it was but a short time before the birth of our first 
child, and I had within me all the anxiety and thought that 
every father experiences under such circumstances. 

However, there was no help for it, so, promising Lillian 
that I would return as quickly as possible, and bidding her 
a fond and passionate good-bye, I began the trip. 

Stopping in the various towns, seeing faces old and new, 
and pushing my affairs as well as I consistently could, I had 
little time to spare. I did not neglect my wife you may be 
sure, but sent her daily records of my affairs and successes, 
for the purpose of allaying any fears she might, because of 
her condition, have on my account. 

At last I was free to return, and I joyfully telegraphed 
home that they might expect me. The whirling wheels 
were soon carrying me eastward, and you can imagine my 
buoyant and expectant feelings. 

Just as the train had almost reached the town where I 
was to make my last change of cars, the sudden breaking of 


30 


a rod on the engine threw me into despair. The accident 
occurred some distance outside of the town. The conductor 
told me he could not say when they would get in ; certainly 
not in time to make the scheduled connection. 

To miss that train meant much of which I was fearful. 
What wouldn’t Lillian think about horrible accidents, broken 
bridges, and the like ? Poor girl, how I yearned to be by 
her side to soothe the nervous excitement I knew she would 
suffer. The thought worried me almost to desperation. 

I ascertained the distance, and calculated that by leaving 
the train and making my own way on foot I could just about 
reach the station in time to catch the outward-bound train. 

To think was to act. Taking to the road-bed, I struck 
into a swinging stride and covered the ground rapidly. 

In the distance I could see the long, low and dark bridge, 
leading into the town, which I hoped to reach before dark- 
ness came upon me. 

But, as the days had been shortening for some weeks, I 
was unable to do it. It was in a very uncertain light that 
I left the track and started down the shadowed foot-path of 
the covered bridge. 

The only light I could see was a dull red one, over the 
track at the bridge entrance, that shed its baleful glare but 
a short distance before it was dissipated by the surround- 
ing gloom. 

At the corner of the street leading into the town the 
flickering reflection of one dismal gas-light chased shadows 
across the cobblestones. I welcomed the light none the 
less, however, though I did not know why. 

I glanced at my watch. I noticed that it was seven 
minutes after eight o’clock. The full red light seemed ta 
suggest muddy blood. 

I noticed that a change had come over me. 

I became conscious of an oppressive, yet magnified, state 
that I cannot describe. It was not a feeling of danger, but 


31 


one that caused me to forget aught but my surroundings, 
and to instinctively center my attention. 

The lateral draft through the shaft, and the downward 
draft caused by the flowing waters below, made every little 
straw and piece of paper stick and scrape in its passage, giv- 
ing it a pronounced sound in the oppressive silence. At any 
rate I distinctly remember that my sight and hearing were 
both nervously acute, and a creeping sensation came over me. 

I analyzed my feelings. My head was cool and my brain 
was calm. No thought or fear of bodily harm disturbed me. 
I felt as bold as a lion, yet I trembled while I analyzed in 
vain. I could not understand it. 

Nearing the other end of the bridge my mind again re- 
verted to my wife. In the gloom I thought I saw her face 
drawn, as if in suffering, looking straight at me in supplica- 
tion and terror. 

I looked more intently, puzzled at the phenomenon. 
There was her face, still before me, and by her side, its 
chubby cheek nestling peacefully against hers, was a baby’s 
face ! My heart stood still. 

I stepped toward the vision. The drawn muscles of the 
face became less tense. 

I stepped closer. The look of terror softened ; the face 
relaxed more, — and more, — and disappeared ! 

I was worried, and heart-sick. What did it all mean ? 

I thought of the new duties in life that even then might 
have devolved upon me. In unison with my thoughts my 
steps quickened. 

My mind was wonderfully clear; every faculty was alert, 
intent. I even noticed that the sounds echoing down the 
shaft seemed to become a roar 

A few feet from the street, without knowing why, I passed 
close to the wall. The action was the natural one of giving 
way to a person coming in the opposite direction. But no 
real person had passed, and, without slacking my speed, I 


32 


instinctively turned my head to find a reason for my 
action. 

For the first time I noticed at the end of the bridge a pile 
of lumber. It was 7iot in the pathway^ but was rather a con- 
tinuation of the partition separating the tracks from the walk. 

Until I had passed the boxes and barrels that lined the 
curb, and drew nearer to the welcome light, my short, ster- 
torious breathing was almost akin to suffocation. 

Once under the light, I felt a load lifted as if from my 
very soul. I gave vent to a sigh of relief, but it was not 
until I got on my train, just as it was moving out, and had 
left the town far behind me, that I was relieved of the op- 
pressive feeling that seemed to possess me. 

After breakfast on the train the next morning, seeking to 
shake off the slight vestige of my sensations of the previous 
night that remained after my heavy, dreamless sleep, I 
bought a paper from the train-boy. I opened it, and ran 
my eye down the columns. 

As I read! was horrified by a long account of the motive- 
less murder, in cold-blood, of a prominent minister who, 
with rare thoughtfulness of his errand, having chosen the 
early dusk as the time best fitted to spare his protege from 
the stare of curious neighbors, was returning home from 
having relieved the distress of some half-starved young 
mother who, the paper stated, had been widowed but a 
few weeks before. 

As I read further I saw that the tragedy had occurred on 
the bridge I had crossed, tke time being cited as fifteen 
mmutes past eight! 

That was the moment I had seen the vision of my wife 
and the baby face ! 

My blood seemed to freeze. I suffered agonies, while the 
swift-moving train seemed to creep at a snail’s pace. 

Once at my town, I hurried home and into the house, 
where I was met by the doctor. By him I was told that 


33 


while my wife was doing nicely now, she had had a very 
serious time, and that at one moment the night before they 
had been fearful of collapse. 

I breathed easier. 

“The child?” I asked. 

“ Is well,” he answered. 

“At what time was that, doctor, that the crisis occurred ? ” 
I asked. 

The doctor turned to the nurse and looked the question. 

“About ten or fifteen minutes past eight, sir ! ” she said. 

“ Was that the time the baby was born ? ” I asked. 

The nurse nodded her head in assent. 

The doctor had been in constant attendance, and faithful 
to his trust, impatient as I was, he kept me waiting until he 
went to Lillian to prepare her for my coming. 

When he returned he looked me sharply in the 
=eyes, and felt of my pulse. He shook his head gravely, 
and said : 

“You are very, very nervous. You must be calm.” 

“Never you fear, doctor, if she’s all right!” I answered. 

As I entered the room, with its dim light and sacred pres- 
ence, I felt that another life was there. 

Lillian was so rejoiced to see me that, weak as she was, 
she lifted herself up to greet me. Tears silently welled up 
in her glad eyes and rolled down her wan cheeks. When 
she had gathered a little strength she told me in whispers 
that she had been so sorely troubled for me ; that she felt 
that I was in danger, and that the minute the baby was 
born her heart almost broke in an endeavor to pull me away 
from a pile of lumber over which she, in her over-wrought 
mental state, had thought she had seen a demon-like pres- 
ence hovering. 

I knelt by the bedside, soothing her, and stroking her 
-cheeks, until she became rational again, turning her thoughts 
to the chubby-faced little fellow who nestled so snugly in 


34 


her arms. Poor girl, suffering though she was, she was a 
picture of beatitude. 

It was many months after my return, and when the baby 
was quite a lusty youngster, that I referred to the coinci- 
dences of that eventful night, and as my wife grasped me 
closer, we both thought — “ was it a good Genius who had 
helped her soul to save me at that supreme moment?” 

What was it? 


THE SPIRIT A FENCER. 



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THE SPIRIT AVENGER. 


I N one of the most picturesque shires in all England stood 
Elton Hall, the country seat of Henry Trevering, Esq. 
From the noise and smoke and fog of London, for longer 
time than “The Squire” could recollect, his family had 
been the owners of their present possessions. As a youth 
he had lived in the country — only paying occasional 
visits to the town. As a barrister and solicitor things 
changed, and it was only for recreation that he repaired to 
Elton Hall to follow the hunt and the ideal life of a country 
gentleman. At the age of three score and five years, in 
vigorous health and in the possession of wealth, accumulated 
even by his fathers before him, Henry Trevering retired 
with his youthful bride, to end his days at his ease. In 
Alice Merthon he renewed his youth, and need we wonder 
that her sudden death was a sad blow to him. After his 
wife’s death, little Alfred, the son of his old age, was left to 
the uncertain care of nurses and relatives. 

The latter, narrow and avaricious, had watched with de- 
light his advancing and childless years. You can, therefore,, 
imagine their feelings at the birth of his only child. 

Knowing the disposition of the Squire, and his devotion 
to traditions, it was an accepted fact that he would leave 
his estate intact for the benefit of his honored name. 

His relatives, however, made repeated attempts to in- 
fluence him in their behalf. His steadfast refusal turned 
cajolings into sullen, malevolent actions. Under the con- 
tinued harassing the old Squire lost his usual buoyancy, and 
a year after the birth of Alfred, the Squire was gathered to- 
his fathers. 


38 


As was supposed, his will left all his possessions to the 
next in line — his son. A course of education was also laid 
out, and an intimate friend, a medical doctor, was named as 
guardian. Further provisions stated that in the event of the 
death of Alfred Trevering without issue, the property should 
be equally divided, share and share alike, with those of his 
kin living at the time of his death. 

The guardian, a good, whole-souled man by the name of 
Mitchell, who resided in the city, unacquainted with the 
situation, left Alfred m the hands of the family at Elton Hall. 
To say that the child was neglected, and all but abused, 
would be needless. Of a sensitive, high-strung nature, it 
did not take long to ruin his temperament, and he was often 
subjected to cruel treatment, the cause of which he, of 
course, had no idea. 

After two years of such living and continued neglect, and 
while Doctor Mitchell was abroad, Elton Hall was closed, 
and its occupants took up quarters in a crowded portion of 
London. The change had hardly been made when the 
country folk received word that Alfred Trevering was dead. 
The statement was given out that he had contracted a cold 
during the journey, and, pneumonia setting in, he had not 
recovered. Doctor Mitchell, being advised of the circum- 
stances, immediately returned home. 

Allowing time for the regular transaction of business, the 
estate of Henry Trevering, as provided in his will, was sold 
and apportioned. 

Elton Hall was purchased entire, by a gentleman of 
means, who allowed it to remain closed until his return 
from a sojourn abroad. 

Henry Trevering was soon forgotten. But the gossiping 
country folk, having little else to do, and being somewhat 
acquainted with the feeling existing in his family, wondered, 
and wagged their heads at the turn affairs had taken. 

Some years after the country seat was purchased, ex- 


39 


tensive repairs and changes were made, the new owner 
moving in with his family, and a retinue of servants and 
laborers. The old nursery, in which young Alfred use to 
romp, was given over to two men-servants for a sleeping room. 

The new sleeping room had been in use about a week, 
when one of the men, a most intelligent and faithful man, 
declared that he was going to leave. He said, from things 
that he had seen, the house was haunted. 

The rest of the household laughing and jeering him, he 
said no more and shortly afterward left the premises. 

Some time after the above occurrence a new hand was 
hired, the two men retiring as usual, for the night. 

As the Hall clock tolled the hour of twelve, John was 
violently awakened by some one grasping his arm. He saw 
his companion greatly agitated, stanng into the embers of 
the open fire place. 

Seeing John awake the man, ejaculated, “ Look, look ! 
Don’t you see it ? ” 

And in the faint light, sure enough, he saw a phantom 
child, carrying a lantern, walking across the room toward the 
fire place. Although they watched intently, neither one 
could swear how it disappeared. At any rate, the apparition 
was immediately lost sight of. 

Thoroughly frightened, they arose and made a thorough 
search, but to no purpose. The absent servant’s story was 
now corroborated, and the servants wondered what the 
warning meant. 

The third night after this the same thing occurred. This 
time, however, both men were sure that the figure disap- 
peared at a spot directly over the stone hearth. They both 
noted its long golden curls, and the beseeching look as its 
eyes met theirs. 

The next day the men resolved to pry up the hearthstone. 
They believed the apparition a talisman of luck, and visions 
of buried treasure danced before their eyes. 


40 


After considerable trouble and exertion this was done» 
and upon poking about in the loose sand and lime, a child’s 
skeleton was discovered. The skin was drawn like parch- 
ment over the frame, a pair of leather shoes were on the 
feet, and a gold chain was about the neck. 

Every one was horror-stricken at the find, and tongues 
immediately commenced to wag. 

The body was turned over to the Coroner, who empaneled 
a jury to view it. As the body was in a good state ot pres- 
ervation, it was placed in an air-tight casket, and word was 
sent immediately to Doctor Mitchell. All signs pointed to 
but one solution of the mystery — that the body was that of 
Alfred Trevering, and that he had been murdered before 
leaving the mansion. 

Before Doctor Mitchell arrived he had the London grave 
of little Alfred opened, and found that it contained no corpse 
whatever. 

Leaving word at the police station, and the necessary 
papers for the arrest of the then living relatives of the Squire, 
he hastened to identify the body. This he was able to do 
by the aid of the necklace and a small ring found near 
the body. 

The arrests of the three principals followed, and great ex- 
citement prevailed. 

Under fear of capital punishment two of the culprits con- 
fessed their part in the affair, and were sentenced to prison 
for a long term of years. The other, against whom was the 
proof of infanticide, was given a life sentence. J ustice was 
swift and sure, and the chain of evidence was so strong that 
the verdicts were approved on all sides. Virtually no de- 
fence was set up, and the baffled conspirators only wept and 
plead for mercy — the boon they had refused a little, help- 
less child. 


THE PO WER OF CONSCIENCE. 



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THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. 


MIND and action controlled by conscience is a work 



not to be swayed, no matter what the crisis. A 
knowledge of the right clothes the outer man in a guise 
that needs not the task of penetrating. I never appre- 
ciated the full force of this until after I witnessed one of 
the most powerful efforts'! ever saw used to break down and 
to extort a confession from a man accused and convicted of 
murder under evidences wholly circumstantial. The case 
came up in the following way. 

Late one night a policeman on his accustomed rounds 
about one of our larger cities, was startled by the rapid ap- 
proach of a stranger, quite out of breath — who related that a 
few moments before he had seen a powerful, evil-looking fellow 
carrying a woman into a broken down and deserted shanty at 
the end of one of the principal streets. The place located was 
quite a distance from where the man met the officer, and 
as his informant said the woman appeared lifeless, the offi- 
cer sent him on for the ambulance. 

Proceeding to the old house, the officer tried the first 
door and found it locked. As he rattled and tested it with 
his shoulder he heard a voice within calling for help and 
begging him to wait until the door could be opened. In- 
stead of opening the door, however, a window was raised 
and a man’s head appeared. The officer immediately cov- 
ered the man with his revolver, and ordered him to throw 
up his hands. 

The look of terror and horror on the man’s face bordered 
on insanity. Under strong excitement he told the officer 
how he had been lured to the spot by a request for assist- 


44 


ance, and, once inside, the door had been shut and fastened,^ 
and the stranger, although locking the door from within, had 
mysteriously disappeared. As his enticer’s footsteps echoed 
down the pavement a suppressed groan had driven terror to 
his heart. Approaching the corner from whence the sound 
came, he had stumbled over a corpse — that of a woman. 
He was trying to find a way out when he heard the officer 
at the door. 

As the man finished his story the ambulance came up. 
Both the man and the body of the woman — a dissolute 
character — were taken to the station. Later, the body was 
removed to the morgue. The stranger who had given the 
alarm and notified the ambulance corps, had disappeared. 

On examination at the central station the prisoner, well 
known to the police as a crooked character, repeated his 
story without hesitation, and appeared deeply shocked by 
its recital. I was present at the hearing and became in- 
terested in the recital of the officer and the story of the 
accused man, who, after telling his story, was led to a cell 
to await the action of the Grand Jury, which was sitting at 
the time. 

Later I went home. 

Somehow I could not get the matter off my mind. The 
face of the accused, his manner, and the circumstances, kept 
coming up and occupying my thoughts, until I was deeply 
concerned. The more I reasoned and solved the more I 
thought the man innocent. I could conceive many rea- 
sons for this conclusion. I really believed him innocent of 
crime. Of course, to suspicion any one else would not 
help. It might have been the stranger who notified the of- 
ficer — iliight have been a person totally different from 
either. The man might have been taken there after the 
woman was killed and before the officer arrived; or it 
might have been the accused who was being carried in — as. 
he wore a long cloak. 


45 


Casting aside all of these suppositions, I could only be 
sure of one thing, and that was of the innocence of John 
5harpless. The Grand Jury found sufficient grounds — I 
presume the straightforwardness of the officer’s story and 
the reputation of the man — to indict him for the crime of 
murder. 

It was such a strong case for the State that no one cared 
to appear for the defense. I thereupon agreed to act as 
counsel for the accused, and with that end in view and the 
trying of an experiment, I visited him in his cell. I told 
him what 1 intended to do, and immediately his face — sod- 
den as it was from dissipation and evil associations and per- 
force, inclination —lightened up in a manner that even I was 
unprepared to see. In full confidence, therefore, he related to 
me his side of the story. It agreed exactly with the tale 
as recited by the police officer; agreed with the accused’s 
own story on the night of the murder and before the Grand 
Jury. Three times repeated, I thought good grounds for 
truth. Still the life he had lead and his previous court ex- 
perience might enable him to do this, so I passed it over 
as of minor importance. What I placed the most hope in 
was the manner of the man. His sincerity of conscience 
burst from him with a light that he, of course, did not ap- 
preciate. To further play upon this I led him over the 
details of the horrible experience in a casual way, not al- 
lowing him to see through my purpose. 

By every means and method I had him repeat and re- 
repeat his version of the affair. He seemed at all times 
anxious to assist me to probe the mystery, and expressed 
deep sympathy for the fate of the woman. He was 
under the impression that she was alive, as she had 
groaned when he was first alone in the room. This had 
attracted his attention. He said his first impression was 
that bodily injury was to be done to himself. 

When told how the officer came by his knowledge of the 


46 


affair, he inquired who the man was ; of course no one knew,. 
but the officer told us subsequently, as best he could from 
his recollection of the man’s appearance at the time. Sharp- 
less, however, could not place him from the description given. 

My client was innocent, of this I was certain. The evi- 
dence and the feeling — indeed all press criticism, was against 
him. I felt that there was only one thing, one line on which to 
work — or rather to effect a combination of defence and 
prosecution — in order to overcome the prejudice. With 
this end in view I associated with me Henry Winthorp, a 
friend who was a great seeker after hidden truths, and who 
was entirely in sympathy with my own notions of the 
higher accountability of man. Withal he was intensely 
practical, a good counselor, and a skilled tactician. 

After my conversation and a detailing of my defence, Win- 
thorp himself had a long talk with Sharpless. On the day of 
the trial public clamor was at its height. That the already 
popularly condemned man had any ghost of a chance, or was- 
by any means innocent, could not be tolerated for an instant. 
The trial lasted nearly two weeks, and was a prolonged fight. 
We had all up hill work, as the prosecution had almost the 
whole town on their side, and our client had few friends^ 
and those few were detrimental. For my part I answered 
the prosecution, and threw my whole strength in the fact 
that a stranger notified the officer, who had no means of 
knowing who was the murderer, and that Sharpless waited 
for and admitted the officer which put forth the evidence of 
truth in his story. 

Of course with my colleague and myself this was merely 
secondary. It was in the summing up that I placed my 
faith. I had every reason to believe that both jury and ac- 
cused would hear something that would shake them from 
centre to circumference. I had read an outline of Har- 
vey’s plan of attack, and knew that he had thrown his whole 
soul into his theme. He believed Sharpless innocent, and 


47 


I myself was surprised— nay, even startled at the depth 
and audacity to which he had gone. Well do I remember 
that eventful afternoon. It was warm — rather close — but 
pleasant. Outside the court room the birds sang and the 
bees droned. Inside, the drawn shades made a shaded 
light that gave an impressive silence. To add to this Har- 
vey’s long, lank figure, clad in a frock coat, gave him a minis- 
terial look. As he arose to address the court his keen 
black and piercing eyes swept alike over judge, jury, offi- 
cers and spectators. Assuming a striking attitude, and 
bending that never to be forgotten gaze on those whom he 
was about to address, he began. Touching lightly on the 
line of defence, he began directly at the foundation of the 
natural law, passing through the various stages of crime and 
the consequences thereto attached, and finally capped his 
discourse with that of murder. All the degrees were treated ; 
all the attributes of the human mind and passions necessary 
to perform such an act, and then, facing the accused, he 
delivered at him the most scathing denunciations of the 
dastardly deed that I ever heard. The silence was deathly 
in its oppression ; the faces of the jury and spectators were 
drawn in lines of painful attention and startled intelligence. 
Never before had a body of men listened to a line of de- 
fence aimed to shame the supposed culprit. To their minds 
it was a complete surrendering of the case to the state, as 
it virtually accepted the line of prosecution. What did it 
mean ? 

For myself I sat and watched eagerly the effect of the 
address upon Sharpless. His face was a study. Knowing 
as I did that not a particle of understanding lay between 
the lawyer and his client, his features were a revelation to 
me. From them I could see that, born with a firm knowl- 
edge of innocence, perfect faith lay between the two. 

Did Harvey draw a picture of the suffering of the dead 
woman so cruelly treated, the prisoner’s face softened and 


48 


tears welled to his eyes. Did the lawyer denounce the 
crime, the prisoners whole expression concentrated into 
one of approval. Sharpless appeared in every phase as a 
sympathetic spectator, abhorring the crime and the man ac- 
cused of it. 

Having led his hearers over the pit where they were hov- 
ering in breathless silence, each unconsciously nodding and 
pointing the finger of shame and horror at Sharpless, Har- 
vey, without giving time for that long-drawn breath that 
must escape before the spectators could recollect them- 
selves, hurled into their firm convictions of guilt a firebrand 
of innocence. In a loud commanding, and evenly into- 
nated voice, he set each individual hunting for the mur- 
derer. Even made John Sharpless forget that he was the 
accused, and started a tingling of shame on every cheek ; 
even caused a flush to come over the prisoner’s cheek as he 
with the others remembered that he was the one on trial for 
his life. 

Where is that murderer? Cannonaded forth Harvey. 
Is that the man ? Pointing to Sharpless. Rather each one 
of you (sweeping his arm toward the jury box) than him. 
You, who have no reason to feel guilt for this crime; you, 
who have no need to tremble in your shoes for fear of .your 
necks ; you are one and all embodied in his expressions, his 
sympathy, his abhorrence. 

Then, in a low, pleading voice, and with outstreachad 
arms in supplication, he said : 

“ I beg that you find a verdict in accordance with the 
dictates of your hearts.” 

After a few words from the judge the jury retired. 

They were a long time agreeing. It was a terrible array 
of evidence against conviction and conscience, — evidence 
of guilt through circumstance ; conviction of innocence by 
virtue of a higher sense. 

But the public clamored for blood. 


49 


After a stubborn conflict a verdict of guilty, with a recom- 
mendation to mercy, was rendered. 

An appeal was unnecessary. 

Under the cirumstances this was as good as a victory, 
and we immediately appealed for a new trial. 

While preparing the necessary papers we received a re- 
markable letter, containing a full confession of the murder 
and account of the suicide in a cheap lodging in San Fran- 
cisco of a former resident of the place — a being in the same 
class as the prisoner. In the confession he stated that he 
was in the court room at the time Harvey delivered his ter- 
rible arraignment, and had left after the result of the ver- 
dict, in the hopes of forgetting the awful load on his soul. 

The burning words, however, and the feeling of guilt 
reached a place in the hardened criminal’s heart that ruined 
his hopes of peace on earth. 

Sharpless was immediately released from custody and, 
being placed under a good influence, gradually forsook his 
former habits. 







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AND THIS IS L O VE, 





AND THIS IS LOVE. 


R udolph PRESTON was a thinker. Seeing and 
hearing, to him, were mere incentives toward open- 
ing up a train of thought. Reasoning was a natural gift. 

From boyhood to manhood, this trait had a prominence 
that insensibly commanded attention. His baby thoughts 
produced questions that amused and puzzled his parents. 
His boyish thoughts and their application were sought for 
by his companions, to whom they meant the production of 
some useful appliance, some novel invention, that enabled 
them to carry out their sports and pastimes in some new 
and interesting fashion. 

Later, as the man, a circle of intimates knew him as one 
capable of presenting to a cultivated taste papers of rare 
intelligence, commanding respect for the subject of which 
they treated. In all cases his articles led up to a delicate 
higher train of thought, towards the solving of some vexed 
problem of the day. 

In his chosen field of thought he developed a degree of 
ability that promised great things for his future career. 

Rudolph often startled his friends, and even himself, at 
times, by the far-reaching, psychological manner in which 
he treated certain things. Certainly, traditions to him were 
as nothing; facts, all; possibilities, everything. 

School, college, and the grind of business he had met and 
conqured, and yet, in his thirty-second year, Rudolph Pres- 
ton was unmarried. Women he had met, and in his own 
peculiar manner analyzed. None of them were for him. 

“What is the use, mother?” he had answered, when she 
chided him for not choosing a companion, “ a person can 


54 


not like any one. It is not right to pick and choose ; if it 
is to be, I shall meet her — it is a matter of Destiny.” 

And so it was in this mood that he met with Mary Has- 
well. 

“Rudolph,” his mother asked, one perfect June after- 
noon, “shall we drive to the orphan fair, at Kirkbridge? 
It is a very worthy object, and we shall meet the promoters 
of the school. My old friend Mrs. Haswell is a director, I 
understand.” 

“ Why, certainly, mother,” he answered, and they were 
soon at Kirkbridge, after a pleasant drive over country by- 
ways. 

This is not a love story, although why shouldn’t it be ? 
Love moves the world — “ rules the court, the camp, the 
grove.” Hatred plays no part in success. 

Rudolph met Mary Haswell as she was occupied with a 
group of young girls from the orphan school at Kirkbridge. 

At her father’s death Mary had willingly assumed the man- 
agement and care of the children from native compassion 
for them, born of her own great loss, which had awakened 
in her a keen sense of pity for the twenty or thirty homeless 
bairns, that called forth all the goodness of her head and 
heart toward their safe-keeping. 

The young girl certainly formed a sweet picture as she 
appeared surrounded by her charges. 

The afternoon was pleasantly spent, and the two found 
much in accord as they conversed, awakening for each 
other that respect which only sincerity of purpose can arouse. 
Which guide to success had shaped their lives thus far. 

During the drive home that evening, Rudolph said little. 
He was thinking. 

The renewal of friendship between the matrons paved 
the way for frequent meetings for the youth and the maid. 
A year’s contact sowed the seeds of love in the soil of 
friendship, nurtured by respect. As true and courteous 


55 


their intercourse, sympathetic their friendship, binding 
their love. 

Rudolph told his mother it was Destiny. The match 
was entirely in accord with Mrs. Preston’s own ideas of 
such things. 

With perfect understanding there was no need for pro- 
longing the courtship, and the Christmas holidays were 
chosen to witness the union. The gayety of the season, the 
closing of Mary’s loving work at the school, all tended to 
brighten the hopes of the many interested. 

Hand in hand the lovers worked, with one thought, one 
purpose, the wish of the one the compact of the other. 
Rapid strides were made towards perfecting the future 
welfare of the orphan school, and autumn foliage turned to 
mark the time. 

Was it Destiny? 

Unexpected and unlooked for as it was, but with a week’s 
ailment and no thought of a fatal termination, Mary 
Haswell was dead. 

Touching indeed was the mourning at Kirkbridge and 
the school. Friends and relatives of the sweet girl spoke 
in reverence of her and her work. 

The responsive chords she had attuned about her vibrat- 
ed, though the frame was shattered. 

And Rudolph ? 

He did not mourn for her ; he missed her — that was the 
difference. She was all in all to him — his being. He could 
not get used to her absence. 

She was not dead to him. She was somewhere, waiting. 
This he knew and felt. But where ? 

It was in April. Rudolph had passed the winter in hard 
work. Everything of importance with which he was con- 
nected had been closed and completed. His life work had 
ended with hers, and she was waiting for him. He thought 
this. It was one of the possibilities. 


56 


It was the evening of the fifth of April when Rudolph 
retired, bidding his mother good-night. The whole night 
was spent in prayer and passion. Prayer to the Almighty 
that he might be taken away. A sincere wish to meet 
her in the Unknown. Passion in the sense that he saw and 
lived again the days of old, held by the spirit of his Affin- 
ity, — Mary Haswell. 

Rudolph Preston believed. 

Toward morning he fell asleep and did not awaken until 
noon. After he had broken his fast he went to the quiet 
churchyard and spent an hour at her grave, wrapped in 
thought and prayer. He wreathed the mound and inscrip- 
tion with immortelles and evergreens. 

Returning to the house, he repaired to his room and 
began a letter to his mother. 

The April sun, setting in the tinted western clouds, cast 
its rays through the half-closed blinds. 

The clock in the corner tolled the half hour of five — 
thirty minutes past the regular time for tea. 

Stepping to the foot of the stair-case Mrs. Preston called 
softly for Rudolph, but received no answer. 

Passing lightly up the long stairs his mother opened the 
door and looked into the room. 

In the corner, by the old-fashioned secretary, faintly out- 
lined in the darkened room, she saw a bowed form. She 
smiled as she thought of catching her boy asleep. 

Crossing the room she placed her hand lightly upon his 
shoulder. The letter lay before him. He did not move. 
Looking into his face, she saw that he, also, was smiling, 
but, — 

The spirit of Rudolph Preston lived in another world. 


A STORY'S MISSION. 


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X, 


1. 


A SrORrS MISSION. 


At the Writers’ Club one evening in December, several 
years ago, a party of us sat talking and enjoying ourselves be- 
fore the luxurious roaring log fire. In honor of the place and 
name each member felt himself bound to recur to those inci- 
dents that, under one condition or another, had led up to the 
climax of a sketch, paragraph, book or poem. You may rest 
-assured that the reasons for the deductions arrived at were 
many and varied, and from plain facts and statements, in 
bare recitals and anecdotes ranged to the most unheard of 
complications and romances one could conceive. 

Willard’s turn arriving, we all settled ourselves to hear 
some startling phase of the aid to scribblers, as Willard 
was noted for his far-fetched similes and rapid-reaching 
ranges of thought. However, this evening we were agree- 
ably surprised and touched when he concluded. He began : 

Willard’s story. 

We all know what it is to graduate from the blue pencil 
scoring of our youthful efforts, the pen-lashing efforts of 
learned critics and other little set-backs incident to journal- 
ism and story writing, but I never felt so heartily glad that I 
was a writer, hunting in every glance, expression, result and 
action for material for a sketch as I was when the following 
incident I shall tell to you came to my notice : 

I was city editor in charge of a prosperous daily in a rap- 
idly growing New Jersey town, and above the daily grind, 
attendant on the getting out of a morning paper, found time 
to indulge myself in study and training, that led up to the 
production of several short stories that took fairly well, be- 
ing published in a couple of leading magazines, after much 


6o 


dressing and toning to meet the ideas of those adapted ta 
judge of the needs of their clients. I could all the more 
feel the force and necessity of this “ calling, ”I might term 
it, as I wasofnecessityforcedtoputmydaily “copy "through 
the same mill, and you may rest assured that, after my 
experience with the Metropolitan journals, I was all the 
more careful of my co-laborers, and in doing unto others 
that which I wished others to do unto me. In the course 
of my labors, I remember receiving, one afternoon, in the 
regular newspaper mail, a neatly written poem, entitled 
“ The Prodigal Son." 

It was written by a woman, and I read it over carefully. 
The lines and conception were not without merit, but I 
had a horror of poetry that was forced upon me to read. It 
seemed so out of place for a daily journal. I cannot yet 
appreciate the necessity for it, other than in some proper 
periodical; then all the thought, care and reason for its being 
in type should be carefully and particularly weighted, for the 
perpetuation of whatever worth it may possess. Coupled 
with my opinions was the fact that the author in this 
instance was unknown to me, either by name or in person, 
and, therefore, I was constrained to reject it. 

This, however, I did considerately, tempering justice with 
mercy, and pointing out the faults as I found them, and 
writing the unknown one to try again. With a persistency 
born of genius, came two or three more efforts, all of which 
I noticed were pervaded with a morbid tendency. One 
poem, after a little correction, I used. It was entitled, 
“Alone at Twilight," and began : 

“ Alone at twilight at the woodlands edge, 

Impressions deep and still enrich my soul.” 

As a whole it was good and no mistake. Perhaps my 
own mood had a good deal to do with my appreciation of 
the sentiment. At any rate, the article appeared in our 
Saturday edition and pleased myself, and its author — I have 


6i 


no doubt. Besides, it filled up a niche. Other than that, 
no one ever mentioned it to me. It might have sunk deep 
into the heart, or been cherished by some not known to 
me, but I think the column relating to a local political 
wrangle outlasted and outlived it largely. 

The poetess, after this signal notice of her efforts, then 
turned her powers into prose writings, sending several 
sketches touching on love, anecdote and other stories. In 
these productions, as in the verses sent, I found the morbid 
tenor still existing. Some of the sketches were very 
good in respect to their promptings and general treat- 
ment, and I, therefore, after some dressing, had them 
to appear from time to time. Then the pith and force be- 
gan to fall away, and I had to reject one after another. 

I think I had returned about seven or eight, when, one 
-afternoon as I was about to leave the office, a timid young 
woman appeared on the threshold. Resuming my seat, I 
bade her enter. She asked for the editor, and then desired 
to learn the reasons for the return of her manuscript. 
Trom her outward appearance of necessity, and her worn ex- 
pression, I was inclined to feel sympathy for her in her trying 
position. After listening awhile to what she had to say, I . 
gave her the reasons for the rejection of her articles. While 
I explained she was very attentive and seemed willing to 
learn. Taking one of her latest productions, I made cor- 
rections, pointing out to her the reasons from a point of 
general composition and also to the needs regarding cer- 
tain forms and styles. The article, as corrected, being 
upon a current subject, was used. 

I did not try to form any opinion of the woman as she 
came to me, I only knew that I had toward her a feeling as 
though I should like to assist her, and she certainly took 
my advice generously. 

I could see she had not done any professional writing 
although I judged in her early school days she had been 


62 


able to prepare a fairly meritorious essay or composition. 
I offered her my services in any way that she could see her 
way clear to accept and the offer subsequently she did 
accept and often came to me with manuscript that we went 
over together. At length her style so far improved that 
little, if any, corrections were made, and she began to write: 
with more ease. 

We were on pretty familiar terms from repeated visits on 
her part, and under exchange of opinions her reserve gave 
way and she became a very interesting conversationalist. 
Notwithstanding her outward appearance, she was a cult- 
ured woman, and her every manner betokened refinement 
and good birth. The majority of her articles, as they came 
to me, still contained that all-pervading sentiment, pathos, 
and depression that should have been foreign to a healthy 
mind. The woman’s frame was wasted, I had noticed, but 
she showed no evidences of sickness or weakness. 

One day she brought in a most doleful story of a couple 
of waifs and their untimely ending. Really, I thought, this 
is getting too much — can’t I find some way to break her of 
it ; open some other more cheerful avenue for her talents ? 

About a week later she came to me for one of her accus- 
tomed chats. She seemed to be just in a humor for sym- 
pathy, and, lending myself to it, I asked her if she had any 
objections to telling me the story of her life. She said she 
had not. In fact, would be glad for me to know, as she 
was thankful for my assistance and the comfort she received 
from my advice, for I had advised her in reference to some 
private matters that she did not feel competent to handle.. 
From her story I learned that she was entirely alone, and 
thrown on her own resources, with everything against her. She 
deserved great credit for her perseverance in the paths she had 
selected, showing her good principles and indomitable will. 
Her story, briefly, was to the effect that when a young girl, 
her parents in the North having died, she was sent to rela- 


63 

tives in the far West. There she was educated and reared 
to the best of their ability. 

Differences, however, arising between herself and her 
cousins, which later led to a bitter quarrel, she had left 
them, returning East. 

She taught school for awhile, until the strain bemg too 
great for her, she collapsed and went through a long sick- 
ness that reduced her and left her almost destitute. It was 
when convalescing that she vurote the first poem that was 
sent to my paper. The kindness of friends, her tempta- 
tions and various other items were related during the course 
of her story. 

I brooded over what she had told me for several weeks, 
and finally my overwrought imaginations conceived an idea. 
At our next interview I asked her if she had any objections 
to my weaving the details of her life story into a sketch. 
Laughing, she acquiesced, saying that she should be much 
interested to see in what manner it would be treated. 
Keeping my own counsel, I commenced my work. It was 
nearing Christmas-tide. It should be a Christmas story, 
therefore. So I weaved about the pathetic story, with its 
struggles, its lessons, its outcomes, a thread of the forgive- 
nesses and recollections of the most blessed season of the 
year. I gave an exact depiction of the story as given to 
me. And did it all the more real because it was real and I 
had a motive. 

The lesson of the Prodigal Son was made to do service 
for the Wandering Daughter, the stray from the festivities 
of Yule-tide was given a place in the hearts of those who 
would fain have known her whereabouts — and then with a 
prayer, I sent on its mission “ The Story of Esther.” 

It was sent by design to a Western magazine devoted to 
home reading and fortunately for my purpose, was accepted. 
I had never let my friend see the manuscript. Indeed, I 
told her that my task was not finished. 


64 


I waited. 

A week before the 25th of December, in my personal 
mail came a large package. Opening it, I found a copy 
of the magazine, containing my story, and a letter, asking 
if the foundation of the story were true, and if I could give 
any facts that would lead to the knowledge of the where- 
abouts of the subject of my sketch, and begging me if it 
were possible to acquaint the writer, etc. To say I was 
happy would be to put it mildly. Sending for my fair 
author, I first let her read the story as it was printed, and 
before she could say a word, I handed her the letter of in- 
quiry, signed by her relative. 

Upon finishing the latter, Mrs. K — . broke down and 
wept for happiness. 

My task was ended. 

To close, the letter was answered, and one, I know, par- 
ticipated in the season’s gayeties with a gladdened heart, 
for the breach, worse than death, was healed. 


A MAh'S EXPERIENCE. 


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A MAN^S EXPERIENCE. 



AR back from the country towns, many miles from any 


1 railroad centre, and away from civilization’s influence 
and smoothening touch, lay the farm of Jabez Ardwent. Jabez 
rightly called it the Homestead. It was his by inheritance ; 
was his father’s before him, aye, was his grandfather’s. The 
generations of Ardwents, reared and tutored in the art of 
husbandry, had left many descendants, as the names of the 
present land owners or tenants in the country around would 


testify. 


Unremitting and laborious work from the first acquisition 
of the lands to the time of which we speak, had characterized 
the entire life-work of the Ardwents. The removal of forests 
primeval and reclaiming barren lands, gave little time for 
rest, recreation or improvement. These, therefore, formed 
no part of the family’s existence. 

Spring, summer, autumn, winter, each bringing its own 
work with an occasional period of enforced indleness, came 
and went, year in and year out. 

Rotation in crops and work, with lack of both time and 
means for advancement, soon left the country folk far be- 
hind in the race for knowledge that dwellers in the large 
cities were making. 

Plodding, contented, they lived and died, performing no 
great life-work, imbued with no high aspirations. Unaware, 
as far as outward evidences would show, of progress or a 
better state. 

The slight insight gained of a better way of living, in- 
stead of broadening, simply narrowed and crowded them 
back into a hard way of living, with an end and aim at 


68 


money-getting, which robbed them of all ideas of fairness 
and honorable dealings. Not strictly dishonest, yet with a 
-code of ethics stamped and pressed without the leavening 
of noblesse oblige. To meet a person of this latter genius 
meant simply a chance to take unscrupulous advantage of 
them at every turn. 

And thus the country stood. 

The boys grew up, married, took farms of their own, and 
the usual routine was pursued. That any other course should 
ever be thought of never entered the heads of the parents. 

But, guard against it as you may ; bury hopes and am - 
bitions as you may, seeds of discontent will take root. 

For, while Jabez Ardwent was feeding his stock and per- 
forming such daily duties in his slow methodical way, as 
winter farm work requires, little did he dream of the re- 
bellious thoughts of his eldest son. 

In the dining-room of the old homestead, where genera- 
tions of men had sat and eaten their frugal fare without a 
thought of ever doing any other work than that of tilling the 
soil, stood Elisha Ardwent, with his hands deep in his pock- 
ets. He was only a lad, with a lad’s ideas of work and re- 
sponsibility. He had finished his chores and now stood 
gazing at the open, colorless winter sky and the leafless, 
swaying branches of the trees. 

As Elisha lowered his eyes and saw the corn stubble and 
•cabbage stalks rearing their scraggly tops from the clinging 
snow, he involuntarily shrugged his shoulders, thus showing 
the nature of his thoughts, turned on his heel, and slowly 
paced the floor. The spirit of the pioneer ancestors, dor- 
mant for many years, was again showing itself in the nature 
of Jabez Ardwent’s son. He longed to know another 
sphere than the one in which he lived. Many successive 
communions thereafter had Elisha with his innermost self. 
Then came the spring months with all the necessary work 
of repairing and overhauling. Later came breaking the 


69 


ground and planting, and then the farmer’s hard season, 
began. Harvesting over, the summer planning of Elisha 
began to take shape. 

On several occasions he had tried to express himself to 
his father, but somehow the words left him and his courage 
failed. 

One evening however, while all were gathered in the long, 
low ceilinged dining room, the same room in which his 
thoughts of freedom came to him, Elisha broached the subject. 
The protecting presence of his mother may have given voice 
to his pent up thoughts. At any rate, he began by stating that 
he intended to leave the farm for the city. With this open- 
ing his ideas and hopes rushed out fearfully, exultingly, until 
he had said all he could in favor of his heart’s wish. 

While he had been talking not a word was spoken by the 
members of the family, who sat about the table. Occasion- 
ally his parents looked at him over the rims of their specta- 
cles or the girls glanced over the tops of their books, but no 
word was spoken. 

When Elisha ceased speaking the readers dropped their 
books and papers, the women their sewing and the boys 
their games. 

In the dead silence that followed his outbreak, his mind 
received impressions that he remembered to his dying day. 

As for his mother, she stopped rocking the old-fashioned 
chair, and raised her eyes to her son’s. Although from his 
tone and manner she knew of his determination — that he 
would leave home — she showed no emotion — the Ardwents 
and Seetons were not given to tears. She simply set her 
lips and from her eyes shone the admiration she felt. She, 
too, had had visions and dreams and in the highest and 
wildest was woven the destiny of her boy. 

His father said nothing for a long time. He sat with his 
head down and his hands on the arms of his chair. It was 
a blow to him to lose his son. 


70 


In accordance with the accepted idea — handed down 
from one generation to another — he looked forward to the 
time when Elisha should take the farm, and he should live 
in the homestead even as his father had before him. Jabez 
Ardwent took a thing at its worst import, and was a long 
time in turning it to its brightest side. 

When Jabez was through thinking and in a measure 
swallowing his own hopes, he broke the distressing silence 
with mild expostulations. 

To these his son gave argument, the two finally settling 
down to planning for the younger man’s life in the great city. 
“ If ye want to go, son, why. I’ll do all I can ter help ye. 
An’ if things are not as ye expect, why, come back agin.” 

With this homily and an accompanpng sigh, the elder one 
arose and went out to see if all was well before retiring. 

With the father’s exit the buzz of inquiry was directed at 
Elisha, who, until his father ceased talking, had been star- 
ing hard at a figure in the well-worn carpet. 

Relieved of the uncertainty of opposition, he was more 
at ease and spent the balance of the evening in explaining 
his future course. Questions and answers flew thick and 
fast, and there was more thinking done in the Ardwent 
household when the inmates retired than there had been for 
some time. 

In a week Elisha’s preparations for departure were com- 
pleted, and ten days later he had cut loose from home ties 
and began his city life as clerk in the office of a manufac- 
turing concern. Having a natural liking for mathematics, 
and being well schooled in the rudiments through his 
mother’s efforts, he was fairly fitted for use and advance- 
ment in his chosen line. 

And now Elisha Ardwent’ s life-work had commenced. 
His farm training had given him an insight into details and 
needs for carefulness, which now stood him in good stead. 
He was methodical, painstaking, attentive. As a conse-^ 


71 


quence, he was soon promoted to a more responsible posi- 
tion with his firm. He often thought of his old home and 
its life. 

At first leaving his parents was a sore trial to him, but his 
work kept him busy and the holidays were upon him before 
he knew it. Going home was a treat to which he long 
looked forward. For Elisha’s work brought with it trials 
and troubles that often caused him to long for his boyhood 
days and his mother’s attention. When the time came, 
therefore, for his visitation he made suitable purchases for 
presents and left the city for his country vacation. 

A long railroad journey and a drive of nearly twenty 
miles over familiar country roads and the old homestead 
was reached. 

Infatuated as he was with his good fortune in commer- 
cial lines, Elisha was hardly reconciled to the looks of the 
old barns and buildings and the gabled house with its flat 
roof extension. Once inside the old house, however, his 
momentary feelings were dispelled by the glad welcome he 
received, and his vanity was flattered by the glances of 
admiration accorded him. No great changes had occurred. 
His parents seemed a little more anxious, a little more care- 
worn perhaps. 

The boys had grown bigger and the girls had left the 
district school in order to master the household duties 
that were proving too heavy for the older ones. 

The work appeared to go on about the same, there were 
no great improvements or advancement in any part of the 
community and contrast with the hustle and bustle of the city 
was always uppermost in Elisha’s mind. His vacation, to be 
candid, proved irksome. He longed for the variety attend- 
ant upon the efforts to please the pleasure-loving and the 
monotony of the country palled upon him. 

Elisha’s time was not his own. Realizing this, he soon 
began to- fret at his absence from the office and soon cut his 


72 


vacation short. In less than the two weeks allowed him, he 
was again at his desk. Here his duties multiplied, and, 
while he objected to the laborious work in the fields, he 
was working twice as hard and by a process almost so in- 
sensible, that he neither knew nor felt the strain upon 
him. 

His next vacation was taken at a fashionable watering 
place, where he entered into the gayeties with the initiated. 
After this the farm had no attraction for Elisha. 

And so ten years soon slipped away. His business ex- 
perience made a remarkable change in Elisha Ardwent’s 
character. 

Contact with the leaders in manufacturing industries, the 
knowledge of ways and means and the thorough business 
schooling made him wonderfully acute in his dealings and his 
aims. His learning, valuable as it was, was luckily not gained 
at the expense of his morals. Instead of its having a nar- 
rowing, sordid effect, it had a broadening influence — such a 
contrast to the close-fisted policy born of dire necessity he 
had met with among the neighbors of his youth. 

Politics, too, took up his spare time, and he often won- 
dered at the work he found time to do by close application. 
Some fortunate investments enable him to make purchase 
of a valuable piece of real estate in the central portion of 
the city. 

In the course of events Elisha led to the altar a city-bred 
young girl who promised “to love, honor and obey” and “to 
care for him in sickness and in health.” 

He took his bride to live iii a fine brown-stone front in a 
fashionable portion of the city — quite a contrast to the old 
homestead. 

Elisha Ardwent then settled down to enjoy a fortune 
acquired in congenial channels. 

Later on,“ Honorable,” as he was called, became interested 
in a large manufacturing concern that bore his name. To 


73 


enter into this last venture he was compelled to draw heavily 
upon his own resources, and to raise a large sum through the 
endorsement of personal friends. It was before the last of 
these obligations were liquidated that the factory was forced to 
suspend work from lack of sufficient orders. A general de- 
pression in the various industries pervaded the country and 
there was no certainty when the outlook would prove 
brighter. 

'This suspension was fatal to Elisha, who was forced to 
make an assignment. To satisfy his creditors everything 
went — all the accumulations and business interests of years. 

As if to test his endurance further, just as he was about 
getting his affairs straightened out, and while casting about 
for some means of mending his reverses, word came to him 
of the death of his father. 

This news caused Elisha Ardwent to pause. In his ca- 
reer in his new home from the third or fourth year he had 
rarely visited the old folks, and, truth to tell, had let them 
and the farm pass almost wholly from his mind. In the height 
of his affluence, his wishes gratified, his parents alive, he 
had no need for them or the old homestead. 

News of his father’s death, coming as it did, seemed a 
finger-mark of Providence — a humiliation as well as a salva- 
'tion. As if to further show him the necessity for this home 
turning, the wife followed the husband, and the children 
were parentless. It was a sad reunion at the farm when 
the parents were laid to rest in the country churchyard, 
where the winds of winter and the breezes of summer 
whistled and played through the evergreens and pines. 

The will of Jabez Ardwent left the farm of his ancestors, 
in line to his eldest son. The girls had all married, the 
boys had places of their own. 

The will as made was a matter of family pride with 
Jabez, he never imagined and never knew of his son’s down- 
fall. 

5 


74 


vVhen Elisha knew that the farm was his a ray of hope 
came to him and his heart became lighter. He looked from 
the same window through which he stared when he had re- 
solved to be of the unknown world. His surroundings then 
looked distateful and black to him; now a halo of light 
seemed to surround the place. He welcomed it as a 
haven — a refuge. He saw the outbuildings in a much 
worse condition than when he went away. 

Not a dollar had he contributed to better the looks of 
the place. The little labor he had put in it had been ob- 
literated long ago. And now it was his ! 

The generations of Ardwents had toiled and fought with 
nature ; they died, and some had been forgotten, but they 
had lived their lives according to God’s Holy Law and not 
a taint clouded their dealings as among themselves or their 
fellow- men. 

It took several weeks to close up affairs and then Elisha 
returned to the city with his mind full of expectation for 
the future. 

To live amid the scenes of his former successes would be 
hard. He would return to the home from whence he came. 

That evening, after returning to his boarding house, for 
his mansion had been sold — he laid his plans in detail be- 
fore his wife. Proud as he knew her to be, he resolutely 
went to her for her co-operation. Had he the least sus- 
picion of her refusal to follow his fortunes — good or bad — 
Elisha Ardwent was taught a lesson in woman’s love that 
would have been hurriiliating. 

True, staunch and courageous, in her husband’s hour of 
need, Grace Ardwent loomed up a noble woman. Without 
a word or a sigh of regret she entered into his plans and 
furthered their progress with all her energy. 

As soon as his personal affairs could be arranged, with 
their two children they left the city, the dream of Elisha’s 
boyhood, and returned to the old homestead. 


■m'v4L>Xi1V^ j . 

interests he so 

to appreciate that waysoi ar , ^ man’s 


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4 


FRONTIER SERVICE IN 


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FRONTIER SERVICE IN Vp. 

I T WAS at one of those charming occasions, a canoeists’ 
“smoker,” that I heard the following narrative. I 
think it worthy of perpetuation, if only as a comparison of 
hardships. 

The smoke hung low in the spacious club quarters as 
Heulton was called upon for a yarn. The flowing bowl 
was responsible for many tales, before untold, and the 
visitor, being called upon, relieved himself of a long whift 
of cigar smoke, and, stretching at ease, began : 

“ I was thinking, after what I have gone through in my 
little canoe, that I must have been bom to be hanged. I 
have enough poison in my system to kill a thousand men if 
I were to be fed to so many; passed safely through a skirm- 
ish fight that laid low at my side seventy of my comrades ; 
have been shot in the legs with Apache poisoned arrows ; 
outlived five men fighting in a corral with the red devils 
howling around ; have gone three days without water, and 
have eaten ten days’ rations of bacon at once to keep it 
from melting away — saving what hard-tack I had as more 
precious than gold. After my several such experiences I 
feel free to say that I am safe from the evils of fire and 
flood. 

“ What I shall tell you is an incident that happened 
during the time I was connected with the government sur- 
veying party through Arizona, and deals with a common 
phase of life in the southwest at that time. You must 
recollect that in 1849 the country west of the Mississippi 
was still in the hands of the various Indian tribes, and, 
while the gold excitement on the Pacific coast was causing 
a rapid settlement in California, no protection for emigrants 


8o 


existed. It was not until the government established lines 
of forts and organized companies of cavalry that the inter- 
mediate territory was safe for the white man to travel.” 

Here came a pause for reflection, dunng which several 
suspicious gurgles were heard, but out of politeness not 
located. One brother was observed to fold about him, 
Indian-fashion, a red blanket; another hunted up a Win- 
chester and a butcher’s knife, while the “ Kid” spread his 
blanket near the light of the fire that crackled in the open 
fire-place. 

Personally, I noticed that Heulton had an intensely 
brown eye, that I had often thought never slept. It was 
restless and alert, yet in reflection it was as kindly and 
tender as a gentlewoman's. The lines in the face and fore- 
head, and the square, firm chin, showed the resolution of a 
brave man. The muscles of his throat, chest and arms 
would have excited the admiration of an athlete. A slight 
limp, while walking, was caused by a wound in the right 
knee. On a trip he was the soul of good humor, would 
put up with any inconvenience, and was always ready to 
help one in misfortune. He was a picture in a canoe, and 
at his best when fighting a heavy rift, or in a bad corner. 

But Heulton resumed : 

“ I think I can interest you for a few moments by re- 
counting my last adventure in the west before returning to 
civilization. I was twenty-six years old at the time I joined 

the party that left Fort M to establish a post further 

east, and had been seven years’ scouting beyond the Platte. 
I had thus served out my “ tenderfoot ” apprenticeship. 

“ We were to work from the west, and had explored and 
surveyed in Arizona — the meanest place on the continent 
in which to exist, at that time, as it was full of fighting, 
treacherous natives, and was intensely dry, hot and dusty. 
We were starved half the time — as we could only get 
rations once in eight months — and thirsty all of the time. 


8i 


“ As for life, it was worse than a hazard of dice. When 
on the march, if a man dropped behind the line for any 
reason he never rejoined the party ; an Indian arrow killed 
him, and an Indian scalped him. 

Since returning east, I have often stopped to think 
that what a man can go through he never knows until he is 
tested. You might use all the expletives you want to and 
nothing could describe it but the phrase ‘ a hard life.’ 

“ As I said before, the sun melted and dried up every- 
thing susceptible to its influence. Life was neither thought 
of, nor counted as of any worth. This was true of both 
Indians and whites, and I think the men who came out 
safely were those who did not value their own lives. The 
careful and cautious ones were usually the first to get 
killed or wounded. 

“ As an instance of the worthlessness of life, you have no 
idea of the deaths that resulted from disputes at cards. It 
was a regular thing for the bull-whackers, when through for 
the day, to start ‘ poker ’ and ‘ seven-up,’ their games last- 
ing with the night. I never cared much for the games, but 
would play if invited to, though never after twelve o’clock 
at night. When that time came I took my blanket, 
hunted up a little hollow or hump behind which to lay, and 
went to sleep. 

“ During the night you would be awakened by a fusilade, 
and then all would be quiet. Next day, on counting noses, 
someone would be missing. You were supposed to know 
enough not to ask questions, but somewhere about camp 
would be a mound of sod higher than the plain, which told 
the story. Should you be thoughtless enough to ask the 
whereabouts of Jones or Smith, your informant would say 
‘ The fool got into a muss last night ; it was his own fault.” 
With whom, you would never find out, and with the little 
information given the matter would be dropped. 

“ After an unusually tiresome scout we returned to Fort 


82 


M , and learned that an Indian uprising was imminent. 

The Apaches were always fighting and harassing emigrant 
trains and troops, but only at uncertain periods did they 
burn and pillage the settlers, or attack frontier forts. 

“ We had been resting about two days — if you can call it 
resting to sleep with a carbine under you and a brace of 
pistols on your person — when we got word that a party of 

young bucks were closing in on Fort Y , some forty 

miles away. Of course, it was the duty of the commandant 
to protect any one in danger, but in such a case as this it 
was customary to call for volunteers, for, in answering 
these calls, a man took his life into his own hands, and it 
would be next to murder to order men out. The party of 
volunteers thus organized received an escort of regular 
troops, furnished by the commandant. 

“ For myself, I was used to scouting, and had done 
enough of such work to know quite well the Indian mode 
of warfare, of attack and defense, with their stratagems, 
and had answered many a call for volunteers. Mrs. C., the 
captain’s dashing and daring little wife, who could shoot, 
ride and fight, as well as her husband, used to inquire, on 
such occasions, ‘ Is Jack going? Oh, how good! If they 
obey him they will come through all right.’ 

“ Whatever might have been thought, I never had any 
trouble to get volunteers, and on this occasion I offered to 
warn the fort if I could pick my five men and be under no 
orders to come or go. This was agreed to readily, and by 
two o’clock I had my men fully equipped and ready. 

“ Captain C was anxious to have us start imme- 

diately. But I was opposed to this, as I counted on travel- 
ing at night. My reason for this was that the Apaches were 
averse to fighting at night, preferring to wage their warfare 
in the day-time, when their deadly poisoned arrows could 
be shot into a party, around which they would circle at a 
distance. In this way they took the life of many a brave 


83 


man, whom it was impossible to avenge, as a rally would 
send them scattering to the hills, with which they were per- 
fectly familiar, and only result in wholesale disaster to their 
pursuers. 

“ Knowing this, then, I laid my plans for starting about 
five o'clock; this would give us the protection from the fort 
until dark, after which we would have to look out for our- 
selves. At daylight, next morning, I calculated upon being 
near enough to Y to get aid from there if necessary. 

“ My plans succeeded, for we got through all right,, 
although we knew that , we were surrounded by silent foes 
all along the trail. During our ride we also saw numerous 
signal fires from the peaks about us. 

“ When we entered the fort, I found Apache Indians in- 
side, at their old game of playing friendship, awaiting 
signals to turn and murder and pillage when expected rein- 
forcements arrived. I directed the commandant to clear 
the fort, and to barricade it, before I delivered my de- 
spatches. The scowling visages of the red villains, when 
they saw their plans thwarted, were anything but pleasant 
to see. They didn’t make any resistence, although my 
boys were itching for a ‘ go ’ at them. 

“ I then served orders and gave the necessary instruc- 
tions. In turn, the commandant, having despatches and 
news from San Francisco, was very anxious for us to return 

immediately with them to Captain C . This I did not 

want to do until nightfall, as it was a moral certainty that 
our trail would be covered as soon as our discovery of the 
Indian plot was made known to the reinforcing party. 

“ The ‘ old man,’ however, did not see it that way. To 
him, time saved was time gained, and he was very persist- 
ent in importuning us to return. For myself, I was out 
under scouting license, and would have accepted orders 
from no one, but my men were half willing to make an early 
start, as the following day was pay-day, and unless they 


84 


were paid off then they would have to wait six or eight 
months before the paymaster came around again, as they 
had to be there in person to sign vouchers. ‘ Pay-days ’ 
you must know were very anxiously awaited and were 
important days at the post. Sometimes it took all of a 
man’s back pay to settle his liquor and tobacco bills, 
together with sundry ‘ debts of honor.’ 

“ I told them, and the commandant, too, that they 
would never get in alive. It was only a matter of experi- 
ence and caution with me, — I might also say pride, — as I 
had a pretty clean record for bringing my command back 
in good shape, and I did not care to risk life any more 
than was absolutely necessary. Under pressure, I gave 
way, and passed the word to get ready, and at two o’clock 
we started. 

“ I should never have yielded against first impressions, 
as my feelings were prophetic of coming disaster. I asked 
the captain to clear the trail after we were out of sight, 
as it led through a narrow canon, which I intended to 
avoid. 

“ It \vas a terribly hot afternoon, and as we filed on 
about a hundred yards apart, both men and horses became 
played out, so we were compelled to proceed slowly. 

“As I was in the lead when we struck the gorge or 
canon, instead of turning in I started up from the plain to 
the top of the plateau, knowing that we could get a clear 
sweep of the country, and thus be doubly secure. 

“ I had covered a good bit of ground, when the boys 
came up and began to grumble against the route. Of 
course it was longer, about nine miles out of our way, and 
they did not like the idea of going so far in the hot sun. 

“ I told them that the longest way around would be 
the shortest way home, and the safest. Besides, they could 
plainly see Indian signs about the canon —the fresh mescal 
cuds, convincing me that the place was alive with them. 


8s 


These cuds were never-failing signs, as the Indians chew 
the leaves when on long raids, for the purpose of exciting 
moisture. 

“ My men were all brave fellows, and felt equal to the 
task of wiping any number of Indians from the face of the 
earth, and they could fight, for I had seen them at it. 
Against my wishes and better judgment, I agreed, since , 
they were so set against the longer trip. 

“ As they turned down the cliffside, I dismounted to 
adjust my saddle girth and to see to my weapons, as I was 
sure that the latter would be useful before we got through. 
It was some distance to the entrance to the gorge, and 
before I got very far advanced in the narrow defile the last 
man had disappeared. 

“I v/as just about rounding a bend of rocks, when I 
heard a sharp fusilade and the demon cries of the dreaded 
Apaches. Then, for a moment, not a sound was heard. I 
knew instinctively that not one of my men was alive, for 
had there been any one to fight, the report of a rifle or 
pistol would have broken the stillness. 

“ The red-skins thought they had the whole party, and, 
not looking any further, were busying themselves in scalp- 
ing their victims. To save myself was the question. I left 
‘ Buckskin,’ my faithful broncho, to himself, and he did not 
betray the trust imposed. He could not turn where we were, 
and had to back cautiously for quite a distance, before 
he could find the necessary room. Besides, the path 
was full of loose stones that made a very insecure 
footing. 

“ Once turned about, I put my horse on a run for the 
fort. ‘Buckskin,’ however, here spoiled my plans, and 
nearly caused me to fall into the hands of the savages by 
letting out a resounding neigh. Instantly I had a horde 
of the rascals at my heels. Into my horse went the spurs 
and we got out as quickly as possible, but not fast enough. 


86 


to avoid arrows, which I got in the legs, together with a 
bullet in the knee. My poor horse looked like a 
porcupine. 

“ Had I found that I could not make camp, I had a 
pistol ready to send a bullet into my brain, for I should 
never have been taken alive, — I knew too well what it 
meant. 

“ As luck would have it, a party from the fort had been 
detailed to clear the trail, and I ran into them, falling off 
my horse at the head of their advancing column. The 
troops, of course, were suspicious, thinking it might be a 
ruse, and so surrounded me. When they learned who I 
was, I was taken back. 

“ Upon seeing the captain, I insisted that a guard be 

furnished to take me to Fort M . and blamed him, in 

strong terms, for the death of the men. The surgeon 
in charge wanted me to stay where I was, as I was weak 
from loss of blood. But J would not^ so a detachment 
was made up and we started. I was placed in a heavy 
prairie wagon, and, as it had no spnngs, suffered excruti- 
ating pains during the trip, which lasted until ten o’clock 
the next day. 

“ On our way through the trail we found and buried my 
five men and the only Indian killed in the ambush. The 
savage had been shot by the leader as he rushed forward ; 
we found him, lying as he fell, face downward, with 
nothing on but a breech-cloth. My men were all scalped, 
and their horses were killed also. We were assailed twice 
on our return journey by the red wasps, and lost two 
men. 

“When I reached my own camp I had the best possible 
attention, but was entirely helpless, not being able to use 
hands or feet. By good fortune not one of the poisoned 
darts had entered my body; which gave me a fighting 
chance. The surgeon, with whom I was on the best terms. 


87 

told me that he would do his best for me, but gave me little 
encouragement. 

“ My whole mind, from this on, was bent upon getting 
east. From preparations that were going on, some weeks 
later, I learned that a party was being made up to go to 
San Diego for supplies, and to take those of our wounded 
that could be moved. 

“ I begged Captain C to let me go with them. The 

surgeon said it was ridiculous — that I would die before I 
got out of sight, could not stand it, and all that. But I 
was determined to go, just the same, and asked the driver 
of the stage if he had any objection to my being fastened 
to the seat with him. Mind you, I was entirely helpless, 
from the effects of my wounds and the poison, and could 
not even feed myself. The driver, a big, good-natured 
western plainsman, agreed, if I was so set on going, to look 
after me. That settled it, and as his word was law in his 
own sphere, I started with them. I believe I felt better 
from that moment. 

“ Of all the trips for me that was one of the worst. We 
kept up a constant skirmish with the Indians ; were swept 
down swollen streams ; waited a week for a safe ford over 
one, and to cap the climax, my stage went over the side of 
a cliff, rolling over and over. 

“ Our mishap was serious, yet laughable. Everyone man- 
aged to get out but the driver and myself. I was strapped 
in and could not, and we went down together. When we 
stopped, he got out to disentangle things and the rest 
hunted us up. They found me alive and able to take my 
share of the whiskey they handed around, and would hardly 
believe their eyes. While I could not help myself I had 
good use of my tongue, and did my best not to be a burden. 
I had made up my mind to get to the coast at any rate and 
so far my will stood me in good stead. 

“ Finally we got to San Diego, and took ship to San 


88 


Francisco. As if to threaten me further, the first night out 
the ship took fire. It burst out between the decking and 
partition of my stateroom, and I noticed it on account of 
the heat. 

“ I could not move, but called to one of the men, who 
came to me. He wanted to raise an alarm at once. I 
begged him not to do so, for there were sixty souls on board 
and I knew a panic would be worse than a fire. I entreated 
him to go quietly to the captain and acquaint him with the 
state of affairs. He did. 

“ The captain hurried to the scene and began prepara- 
tions for controlling the flames, and headed the vessel for 
the beach. But the mate, a cool-headed and plucky fel- 
low, with the aid of some seamen, succeeded in putting the 
fire out, so we continued on our course. 

“Arriving in San Francisco, I was placed in the Sisters’ 
hospital. Having gold and money enough to last me for 
some time, two of the party staid with me. 

“You can tell how sick and weak I had become, for 
from a hundred and eighty-seven pounds I went to ninety- 
eight, and was suffering terribly with the wound in my leg, 
which, from want of proper care, was eating away the flesh 
and bone at the knee. 

“ The time arrived for the vessel — one of the Vanderbilt 
coast-line clippers — to sail for the Isthmas. I was taken 
aboard. Here my two nurses told me they intended to 
desert the army, as they were tired of the life they led on 
the frontier. Of course I could not countenance this, and 
so they left me. 

“ Being alone, I sent ashore for someone, a New Yorker 
preferably, to keep me company until the ship sailed. A 
Jew, from Chatham street, was hunted up. He came to 
me and treated me elegantly. Through him, a prominent 
surgeon came to see me, and promised a cure if I would 
have my leg cut off at the knee. This I refused to do, but 


89 


at his solicitation I left the vessel and was taken to the best 
hospital in the state. Here, after twenty-two months of the 
kindest sympathy and attention, I was discharged as cured. 

“ As I was a States subject, I had all the money refunded 
that I had paid out, and in addition was granted a pension. 

“ From the time I left the hospital I used a cane in walk- 
ing for quite a while, — until I was married, — and might be 
yet, but for forgetting to take it along one day, while I was 
on my bridal tour, in Washington. 

“ One morning, my wife and I left the hotel together for 
a walk, and we had gone quite a distance before she observed 
that I was without my walking-stick and called my atten- 
tion to it. 

“ ‘ Well, Anna,’ said I, ‘ if I can walk this far without it I 
guess it must be imagination or habit. I won’t go after it,^ 
and I did not.” 


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BAFFLING A CONSPIRACY. 


N early ten years have now elapsed since the event 
that I am about to narrate took place. That I am 
alive to-day I attribute to the fact of incidental good for- 
tune that enabled me to baffle a conspiracy, the successful 
culmination of which, had I appeared upon the scene a 
trifle earlier, would have decreed me death. 

Entering upon a business career after serving my ap- 
prenticeship I connected myself with a large jewelry firm 
in the city of New York. I had been advanced from one 
position to another until, being adjudged competent, I 
was given an extensive territory, containing concerns and 
individuals from whom I was expected to procure a large 
business. 

You may be sure that I worked hard to further my own 
interests by turning in the largest orders possible. I had 
worked up my territory and made extensive additions until 
I felt that I was entitled to a needed rest before again 
pushing for a larger increase. 

As I was beginning to feel settled, however, I received a 
letter from my employers requesting me to report to the 
home office as soon as I could arrange to leave the work 
then in hand. 

Wondering at the hasty summons I straightened out my 
afiairs to the best advantage, leaving in my place a trust- 
worthy under-clerk. Upon reaching New York I went at 
once to the head office, where I was greeted by the senior 
member of the firm, who kindly complimented me on my 
progress, and also on my promptness in answering their 
summons. 

Sending for the junior partner and the head bookkeeper, 


94 


we repaired to the private office and were closeted for 
nearly half a day in discussing and hunting up data for the 
purpose of enforcing the settlement of a claim that had 
about it an air of mystery. 

It seemed that among the numerous customers of the 
firm was a concern, trading under the name of R. B. Ding- 
ley & Company, having their office or factory in a borough 
among the mountains of Western Pennsylvania. 

The company dealt with us under a peculiar system, and, 
while the method of keeping their accounts was out of the 
usual order, still it was not intricate to one entering upon it 
at the beginning of the transaction. 

R. B. Dingley & Company were known to us as the 
patentees of a certain instrument for scientific purposes, in 
the manufacture of parts of which they were compelled to 
use diamonds, as no other substance known at that time 
appeared to possess the requisite hardness. 

The size of the diamonds varied, and ranged from a 
mere chipping to a three or four-karat stone, or, to be more 
explicit, from 45.257 mils to 289.300 mils in diameter. 

As the use of these stones would require a large outlay 
of money, we had devised a plan whereby they agreed to 
deposit with us a stated sum covering the value of a certain 
number of gems. These we were to forward them, charg- 
ing against the sum deposited. 

Upon returning to us the first consignment we were to 
deduct the amount of our charges and to fill the accom- 
panying order at a price not exceeding, including charges, 
one and one-half times the value of the preceding shipment. 

The reasons for this can easily be seen, as it protected 
us and repaid the firm for the wear and tear of the gems. 

We had transacted business upon this basis with them 
for some time, they claiming that the sale of the instru- 
ments compelled them to work on this basis until such time 
as they could thoroughly introduce them. 


95 


None of the principals of R. B. Dingley & Company 
were known to my firm personally, but their deposits were 
evidence of good faith, and they were quoted in a reliable 
mercantile agency. 

Our method of delivery was through the express com- 
pany to the station nearest their borough in Pennsylvania, 
the Dingley company’s messenger receipting for the goods 
there, and conveying them over the mountains to the factory. 

Affairs went on comparatively straight until they re- 
quested that we make them a shipment of large sizes, the 
last consignment needed for them to complete a series of 
drillings or drawings. 

Inasmuch as the value of the order far exceeded the de- 
posit, our firm was loath to make the shipment. However, 
upon considering the amount* of trade and previous prompt 
payments, they decided to take the risk. 

After making the shipment, for which they received in 
due form the express company’s receipt of delivery, they 
heard nothing from the consignment. 

The correspondence that ensued finally produced a state- 
ment from the Dingley company to the effect that the last 
consignment of diamonds was unsatisfactory, and also that 
they desired a complete statement of account for the three 
years’ charges and commissions. 

They claimed that our statements of transfers, exchanges 
and balances did not agree with their own, and desired to 
defer payment until the matter was adjusted. 

The desire for delay was too apparent to such men of 
business as had charge of the affairs of our firm. The receipts 
which had been forwarded with each shipment, and which 
had been accepted without quivocation, were as complete 
statements of accounts as could be made. 

It was therefore decided that I was to proceed to the 
works of Dingley & Company, and to demand payments 
due, and to recover the gems without compromise. 


96 


To enforce the wishes of my firm I carried the necessary 
power of attorney to enable me to act in all matters that 
might arise. I was also furnished with a complete state- 
ment of their account, which, although intricate from its 
extension over such a long period, I felt sure I under- 
stood. 

In order to interrupt my own branch of the business as 
little as possible I suffered no delay, but immediately 
took the train for Pristine J unction, at which point I would 
be compelled to obtain a conveyance to take me over the 
mountains. 

On the train I met an acquaintance, who was on his way 
to a town half way between New York and the Junction. 
He said, during our conversation, if I would go with him 
while he transacted a little business, he would go on with 
me to see the country. 

Harry, — for that was his name, — was an ardent sports- 
man, and the country through which we would pass was 
noted for its abundance of small game. 

For the sake of his companionship, I acquiesced, and, 
while the delay was not long, we did not reach the end of 
our railway journey until about three o’clock Friday after- 
noon, a day having been consumed in making the trip. 

We had some trouble to get a carriage to take us over 
the mountains, as the driver said he would be late in get- 
ting there, and would have to stay all night. We soon ar- 
ranged the fee to overcome his objections, and started. 

In the course of our conversation, which of course was 
overheard by our “Jehu,” we mentioned our destination. 
He shook his head and began asking me questions about 
the company. I told him I knew nothing about them, and 
in turn quizzed him. 

I found that he knew nothing definite about them, but 
had heard numerous gossipy reports concerning their queer 
and seclusive ways. 


97 


This did not strike me seriously, as I knew that persons 
pursuing an object in a scientific line were liable to sur- 
round themselves with an air of mystery, which would at- 
tract marked attention in a country town. But when he 
hinted that one of the firm had left very suddenly, I made 
a mental note of it. 

We reached the R. B. Dingley company’s works just 
before six o’clock, and the shadows were beginning to 
lengthen. 

We dismissed the driver, who, his artifice for an extra fee 
having succeeded, determined to return before morning. 
This was immaterial to us as we had expected to get a 
stage in the borough to take us back to the station. 

We were compelled to go a considerable distance back 
from the public road to reach the works, which we had seen 
from a distance. 

The entire structure had a massive appearance, and the 
building appeared to be a dwelling and factory combined. 
As we walked up to the entrance my friend remarked on 
the somber surroundings, and I joined in with him, for to 
my eyes it had all the appearance of a castle in the feudal 
times of England. 

To the left of the front entrance was a room that ap- 
peared to be the office. We opened the door and entered. 

Before us were two small rooms, we being in the outer 
one. In the room in which we found ourselves, on a low 
stool, sat a man engaged in adjusting some delicate me- 
chanical parts of a small instrument. 

Near the door leading into the smaller room was a block 
or box covered with a matting of curious design and fibre. 
This was all there was in the room, except a telephone on 
the end wall. 

Looking through the door we saw a similar instrument 
hung in the back room and having a desk and writing pad 
near it. 


98 


As we waited, the workman finished his task and looked 
up at us. I asked him if this was the office of Messrs. 
Dingley & Company, and he nodded in. assent. 

I thereupon stated my connections and requested to see 
some member of the firm. Before I had ceased speaking, 
he abruptly turned on his heel, and, opening a door near 
the telephone in the first room disappeared from view. 
Harry commented on the treatment we were receiving, and 
I myself was a trifle provoked. 

It was fast growing dark. Not a light was visible, nei- 
ther could a sound be heard. 

Going into the inner room, we saw before us a flight cf 
stairs leading to the second floor. There was a landing at 
the top of the stairs, and a door ahead and one to the left, 
for we could see the white knobs in the faint light. 

Thinking that the “ odd mechanic,” as Harry had dub- 
bed him, had gone to notify someone of our presence, we 
waited until so long that, getting tired, we debated whether 
to go back into the town and return the next morning, or 
to stick it out until someone should come. 

We had about decided on the former course, when Har- 
ry said he was going to see if there was anything on the 
floor above. I remonstrated with him to no purpose. He 
said if people would not be civil he would investigate 
their premises. 

He therefore bounded up the stairs and I heard him 
trying the door at the head of the stairs. I followed him, 
aud knew that he opened the door, for I felt the rush of air 
down the casement and saw light through the crack of a 
door beyond. Then the door flew shut with a bang, and I 
was left alone in the darkness. 

Calling, I received no answer. Becoming alarmed, I 
sprang forward and turned the knob. It was in vain ; the 
door was locked. 

Feeling about, I touched the knob to the left and opened 


99 


the door. I found myself on the threshold of a large 
dining-room, brilliantly lighted and well furnished. To the 
rear of the building doors opened, showing rooms be- 
yond. 

With the light from the room flooding the hallway, I 
tried to open the first door, through which my friend had 
so unceremoniously disappeared. Finding I could not, I 
called again, but received no answer. 

Thoroughly alarmed, and suspecting trouble, I re-entered 
the dining room and began surveying the walls and doors, 
in the hope of finding a way into the room corresponding 
to that portion of the house forming the right wing or 
tower, as I recollected it from the exterior. 

But I found none, and going again to the landing I was 
about to descend with the intention of going to the town 
for assistance, when I heard steps outside and saw an en- 
velope drop to the floor from a slit in the office door. 

I hurried down the stairs, shouting out, but was not 
heard. Then I tried to open the door, but found it locked. 

Indeed, had we but known it, the door was locked from 
the outside immediately after the workman had announced 
our presence to those in the house. 

I turned to the windows. To my surprise I met with 
deal shutters, fastened by a bar on the outside / The' shut- 
ters had evidently been put up while we were up stairs. 

I was dumfounded, and worried. Something serious 
was up, and yet I could not fathom the reason. 

My friend and I were undoubtedly imprisoned, but for 
what reason ? Certainly not on account of the differences 
of my firm and this concern, of whom I had come to de- 
mand satisfaction. 

The amount that they owed was large, but why this at- 
tempt at detention ? Was it for the purpose of defeating 
attempts at collection ? Had they been defrauding other 
concerns in the same manner? 


lOO 


I puzzled and studied vigorously, but could come to no 
satisfactory understanding. 

Making sure that I could not get out, I picked up the 
telegram that had been dropped on the floor and returned 
to the dining-room. 

On getting up stairs I found the envelope I held was 
only partially sealed —indeed, it came open in my hand. 

The envelope was addressed to “ Charles Disstow, P , 

Pennsylvania.” Glancing at the contents I found it a tele- 
graphic copy of a cablegram, dated at Liverpool, England, 
and by code, “United States flags. Yesterday. Red 
Jacket.” The signature as written out was “ Thomas 
Westmoreland.” 

I had barely returned the telegram to the envelope when 
a gray haired gentleman entered the room. I could see by 
his manner that my presence was well known to him. 

Upon his entering, I arose and met his gaze. I had 
divined that the person before me was Dingley and so 
asked him. Upon his assenting I indignantly inquired the 
reason for the treatment inflicted upon my friend and my- 
self. I demanded our release and the settlement of my 
firm’s account. I very forcibly told him he would find the 
arm of the law a long one, even though he fancied himself 
beyond the pale of its influence in his chosen seclusion. 

Dingley did not deign to answer my questions nor to 
heed my threats. I was quick to see that he was not alone 
in the case. Indeed, his cool assumption and the entrap- 
ping of my friend proved that. But what his resources or 
plans were, of course I knew not. I resolved to repeat my 
demands, and if he showed no disposition to accede to 
them, to assault him, make me escape and return with help. 

The whole affair to me, was, to say the least, of the most 
mysterious kind, if it did not mean actual danger to us. 
Dingley’s refusal to engage in conversation showed me that 
he was waiting for something. 


lOI 


As I was about to begin, a young girl, of about the age 
of sixteen, entered the room and busied herself in getting 
tea. She did not appear disturbed by my presence, merely 
glancing at me curiously. 

Dingley, who was attired in a neatly-fitting frock-coat, 
light trousers, and in slippers, seated himself in a chair 
close by me and commenced asking me some questions 
concerning my errand. 

I fully stated my case, and again upbraided him for his 
trickery. I also repeated my request for the release of 
Harry. For, although I was as much a prisoner as he, I 
thought if we could be together it would be to our advan- 
tage. 

As far as my business was concerned Dingley vouchsafed 
no reply ; as for my friend he assured me that he would be 
well cared for. 

Before I could again speak a man and woman entered 
the room from one of the side doors. They were talking 
in reference to some evidently important subject, and in 
answer to a question the man answered, “ that’s as easy to 
fix as some other transfers.” 

At this the young girl put her fingers to her lips, and the 
new-comers, looking at me in surprise, seemed confused. 
Dingley and the man and woman then held a consultation, 
and presently all withdrew from the room but Dingley. 

The latter then came to me and requested that I follow 
him. Instead I demanded an explanation of his conduct, 
and again demanded to be released. Still retaining his 
composure, he said that if I would do as he said all would 
be well. He desired to have a talk in reference to our 
account. 

He lead the way through a door opening into the turret, 
a large compartment, well appointed and used as a sleeping 
room. He was somewhat in advance of me, and, turning 
an angle formed by a closet projecting into the room, I 


102 


thought I heard the “ click ” of a lock. I quickened my 
step and reached the door. As I put my hand on the knob 
the door through which we had entered closed with a simi- 
lar “ click,” and I was a prisoner ! 

Dingley had locked the first door, stolen back into the 
room and locked the other one. 

It came to me that my imprisonment was to be a matter 
of detention only. 

Why? 

Study as I might, I could not answer the question. 

The room, now that the door was closed, was pitch 
dark, — no lamp or other means of obtaining light being at 
hand. 

Making my way to the bed, I threw myself upon it, and 
thought. I could easily see that our arrival upon the scene 
had upset the plans of the “company,” and that there was 
something more at the bottom of it all than the claim of 
my own firm. 

While thus engaged I heard persons moving in the next 
room and surmised by the rattling of plates and cutlery that 
they were at tea. The sound of voices also came to my 
ears, but too faintly to be distinguished. After a while, all 
sounds ceasing, I fell asleep. 

When I awoke the next morning light was streaming 
through the barred windows, and a meal was again in pro- 
gress in the next room. As I had nothing else to do, I 
surveyed thoroughly the room and its contents. I was 
looking for some means of escape, if such means presented 
itself. This, as yet, seemed impossible, as I could not find 
the means for getting out of the windows, barred as they 
were. 

In the course of my inspection I found on one of the 
tables a paper, yellowed by age and dated some three years 
back. This was about the time we began trading with the 
Dingley company. Opening the paper, therefore, I began 


103 


to read, and, in the column of foreign news, I came across 
an item giving the circumstances of the death of Richard ' 
Disstow, at Liverpool. The name and town immediately 
recalled to mind the episode of the telegram the night 
before, and I instinctively felt for it. I found the envelope 
in my pocket, whither I had thrust it upon the entry of 
Dingley into the dining-room. 

Returning to the newspaper article, I found that Richard 
Disstow had left his only surviving relative, his brother 
Charles, a fortune of 50,000. The article concluded 
by saying that Charles Disstow, who was of a scientific turn 
of mind and well educated, was engaged in the production 
of an important patent somewhere in America, and that 
Sir Thomas Westmoreland, Bart., was the executor of 
the estate. 

Following up the train of events thus placed before me, . 
I concluded that Charles Disstow was the “ company ” of 
R. B. Dingley & Company, and was the inventor of the 
scientific apparatus manufactured, and that he was the 
brother of Richard Disstow, and heir to the vast fortune 
mentioned in the paper. 

I then asked myself, was the second man I had seen the 
night before Charles Disstow ? If so, and he was the pos- 
sessor of such an amount of money, why should he seek to 
defraud my employers out of the balance due on the last 
consignment of diamonds, and what was his object in re- 
taining Harry and myself in captivity. 

I instinctively disliked Dingley from the moment I set 
eyes upon him. Of course the events of the previous night 
only accentuated such feelings. I also wondered to what 
extent he was interested in the firm. 

Thinking that the second man might be the Charles 
Disstow mentioned, and that the telegram might have ref- 
erence to money matters, I concluded that, no matter 
what their treatment, I had no right to retain it in my pos- 


104 


session. With this in my mind, I pounded on the door, 
hoping to call some one into the room. I braced myself 
against the door with the expectation of pushing into the 
outer room should the door be opened. 

But I was disappointed. No one came. 

vV earying of this, I resolved to explore back of the bed- 
stead, as I had noticed a casement or lintel, almost even 
with the top of the head-board, and surmised that there 
was a door back of it. Pushing the bed away, I found I 
was right, but was additionally surprised to find it unlocked. 

The room I^entered was an unused bed-room. With 
bated breath I tried the door on the opposite wall. It was 
locked. The windows also were barred, the same as those 
in the turret. Going back to the room I had just left I 
replaced"the bed as I had found it, and returned to the 
paper. 

When I first took up the paper an oblong box lay upon 
it. This I had removed and placed on the end of the 
table. In reaching across I accidentally knocked it from 
the table. As it fell upon the floor, the lid flew open, 
scattering a number of papers and letters over the carpet. 
While replacing them I found they were letters addressed 
to Charles Disstow. 

I had no scruples about opening them. I was there to 
learn all about this very person and his connections with 
the firm of R. B. Dingley & Company, and if I could 
utilize my time in confinement toward that end, I meant 
to do it. 

I found that the letters all related to the fortune of 
Richard Disstow, and consisted of correspondence between 
the executor and the heir. Replacing them as I found 
them, I proceeded to put away the other papers also. 
While doing this I came across a folded card, marked 
“ code.” Opening it, a slip of paper dropped out and flut- 
tered to the floor. 


Regaining it, I read: “Charles Disstow, of P , 

this state, was confined here to-day by R. B. Dingley. 
The application, stating that he is mildly insane, is signed 
by Dr. Kingsbury, who advises slight restraint, upon the 
request of Mr. and Mrs. Dingley.” There was no date, 
and I could not conjecture how long ago the confinement 
had been made. 

The slip had evidently been torn from some asylum 
record, and, judging by the color, I should have said it was 
about the same age as the paper. Still, I might be mis- 
taken. Shut up from light and dust it might have been 
much older. 

The correspondence, though, I noted, was dated up to 
within a month. Indeed the last letter spoke of the con- 
summation of the labors of the executor, and the expecta- 
tion of shortly turning over to the heir the whole inheri- 
tance. 

The train of thought that this last letter forced upon me, 
received strength as I took up the “ code,” with the inten- 
tion of deciphering the message. The card was well worn, 
as though frequently consulted, and the arrangement of 
words was simple. Placing the message on my knee, I 
inserted the equivalent from the “ code ” as I found it. 
Completing my task, I had good grounds for deciding not 
to return the telegram, and also to escape and secure the 
arrest of the inmates of the factory. 

The telegram, filled in from the key, read as follows : 

“I.IVERPOOL, England, ” 

“ Charles Disstow, P , Pa. : 

“ Have cabled deposit in your name for ;^i50,ooo, less fees and 
expenses, ;^i,ooo. Will write. 

“Thomas Westmoreland.” 

The cipher despatch was dated the day I arrived. The 
correspondence was directed to Charles Disstow hardly a 
month previous. Charles Disstow was incarcerated in a 

7 


io6 

private asylum, and had been placed there at least eighteen 
months before. 

From the tenor of the correspondence of Mr. West- 
moreland I could plainly see he was under the impression 
that he was dealing directly with the heir, when, in fact, he 
had not been for the last eighteen months. How much 
longer I did not know. 

It was evident that Dingley, who had been planning to 
get the legacy, put himself in the place of Charles 
Disstow. 

It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when the door 
was opened, and Dingley appeared, followed by a burly 
servant bearing a tray with my meal. 

Knowing all I did, Dingley appeared 'doubly sinister to 
me. He still retained the same demeanor that I had 
noticed the day before, but it appeared to me that he was 
uneasy about something and had rather a dogged air than 
one of composure. 

I asked when we would be released. He answered that 
he would go back with us to New York in a day or two, 
but at present it was necessary to keep us there. Further 
than that he would make no reply. 

As he turned to leave the room he noticed the paper and 
box on the table, and immediately removed them, taking 
them out with him. Although evidently impatient that 
they had been in the same room with me, he went out with- 
out saying anything. 

Upon finishing my search I had been careful to replace 
things as I had found them, and hoped their disturbance 
would not be noticed. But I counted too soon on getting 
off easy. In about half an hour he returned and asked 
me bluntly if I had read the letters. 

Now, while I was at the man’s mercy, I fully expected to 
be released or to escape, and I felt that I did not fear him 
either physically or morally. I therefore answered him as 


bluntly as he had asked the question, that I had, and why 
I had. 

To my surprise, his manner changed and he very politely 
explained that the room I was in was Mr. Disstow’s, the 
silent partner in the firm, and . that he was away on busi- 
ness. He further added that he was expecting him back 
at any minute. 

To this falsehood I said : 

“ I presume private business ? ” 

Nodding, he withdrew. 

My opinions were fully strengthened by this interview, 
and to fortify myself still further I drew up to the keyhole 
at the door next the dining-room, upon hearing them at 
tea, and listened intently, eagerly catching every loud word 
that would reach me. 

This bit of eavesdropping procured for me the intelli- 
gence that they were expecting the very despatch that I 
had upon my person, and that they were delayed in some 
movement by not receiving it. I also learned that the 
other man was “ Dr. Kingsbury.” 

The whole conspiracy was now so plain to me, that, 
with the keynote m my possession, I had only to file my 
complaint with the proper authorities to enable me to fully 
avenge all my own wrongs, besides releasing and restoring 
to liberty the victim of a vile conspiracy. 

Whatever preparations I might have wished to make, look- 
ingto my escape, I was compelled to forego, not only 
on account of the darkness which was now falling, but also 
because any noise I might make would certainly be overheard. 

I began to think, and reconnoitered while I thought. I 
carefully examined the windows and outside surroundings 
and procured at the last minute, before throwing myself on 
the bed in my prison, the additional sheets from the spare 
bed and carefully concealed them. Planning and project- 
ing my further movements, I fell asleep. 


io8 

Upon awakening I found on the table a plentiful supply 
of food and a note, stating that the family had gone away 
for the day, and would be back at nightfall. 

This meant that I would not be visited again, though I 
knew the place was watched, having seen a wai^chman on 
the grounds. 

However, it gave me the chance I wanted, and I thor- 
oughly scrutinized the bars and windows during the morn- 
ing. I found that in the back room I could, by working 
out the mortar between the coping, push out the cross- 
standard at both the top and bottom of the grating. This 
would enable me to gain an opening just wide enough to 
push through. The sheeting I intended to join and fasten 
to the bottom bars. 

Bv raising the lower sash I was able to pick out the 
mortar confining the cross-standard, using a steel paper- 
cutter and a heavy weight. Lowering the top sash I did 
the same with the upper standard. 

Returning to the turret room I left the bed stead at a 
sufficient distance from the wall to enable me to open the 
door and squeeze through. 

I completed my task at about four o’clock, and then sat 
down to await darkness, and to time the watchman on his 
rounds. I found that it took him three-quarters of an hour, 
and that he passed around from right to left. 

All the time I was wondering what was Harry’s condi- 
tion. I imagined that he was lajing as well, at any rate, as 
myself. I believed that he was locked in the correspond- 
ing tower on the opposite end. 

After darkness set in, I began to consider when “my 
friends ” would return. As it grew later, it dawned on me 
that they did not intend to return. 

It was near nine o’clock, and very dark, so, acting on 
this supposition, and knowing that I had no time to lose, 
if my surmise was correct, I proceeded to make a rope 


fronx.the sheets of the bed, and to remove the grating from 
the window I had selected from which to lower myself. As 
there was another window just below, I had to be careful 
not to allow the rope to dangle in front of it until I was 
ready to make a swift descent. 

Everything being in readiness, I waited for the watch- 
man. In a few minutes he came across the lawn, glanced 
over the building and passed down the factory wall, swing- 
ing his lantern as he went. 

Giving him ten minutes’ grace, I lowered myself past the 
window below my room, and which I noticed had neither 
curtain nor blinds. Touching the ground, I tried to disen- 
gage the rope, but could not, and so left it hanging. 

Rapidly following the house-walls, I reached the factory 
section and the fenced portion of the grounds. I tried to 
look in at the windows, but they were just above my head, 
so could not. 

I reached the confines of the grounds safely and, fol- 
lowing a fringe of wood, reached the highway and made my 
way to the town. Not being familiar with the country, I 
lost some time, as I had to inquire the way several times, 
and my unkempt appearance, together with the hour of the 
night, made me a suspicious character. 

Once in the village I hunted up the local justice and 
laid my case before him. He had the grace to accept my 
statement, more, perhaps, from the fact that the “ castle,” 
as the country folks called it, had always been looked upon 
with dread, than from any confidence he placed in me. 

Hunting up the constable and aides we traveled back to 
my late prison, pressing into service a dilapidated “ carry- 
all.” We were all well armed, and had lanterns, an ax and 
a crow bar. 

You may be sure that I was plied with any number of 
questions, but, outside of the necessary statements to 
constitute the proper legal charge, I said little. 


no 


We went up to the front of the house and made a 
search for the watchman. He was not found, and I think 
the sight of the rope from the turret window told him of 
my escape. Afraid of being captured, he made his escape. 
We returned to the door and knocked, but received no 
answer. Trying the door, it opened without any trouble, 
and I again found myself in the gloomy offices, with tele- 
phonesj the box covered with the queer design in matting, 
and the desk. 

Meeting with no opposition we went up the flight of 
stairs to the doorway, through which Harry had so mys- 
teriously disappeared, and found it unlocked. Opening 
it, we found ourselves in a small room, with a door leading 
into another room. This door we found locked, but as we 
tried the knob, we heard Harry calling. I was overjoyed 
to hear his voice, and felt greatly relieved. 

We burst open the door in short order, and found him 
none the worse for his imprisonment. I need not say he 
was rejoiced to see me. The room he was in corresponded 
to the one in the opposite turret where I had been con^ 
fined, but was devoid of furniture save a bed and table. 

Harry stated that when he tried the door, on the Friday 
previous, it readily opened showing, as I had also seen, the 
light in the room beyond. As he opened the inner door, 
the outer one was shut by a person in the room, while an- 
other seized him and pushed him in the inner room, the 
door being locked after him. The whole transpired so 
suddenly that he had no time for resistance. 

From his description the two men must have been Ding- 
ley and Dr. Kingsbury. When they brought him his sup- 
per he was told that he was wanted for safety to them- 
selves. 

We all went back to the dining-room, when I found the 
box and papers, and took possession of them. There being 
no further use for our staying where we were, we decided 


Ill 


to return to New York, and to place the matter in the 
hands of a detective agency. 

We learned from the justice and constable that a train 
had left the Junction at five o’clock that ni^t and that the 
next one was scheduled for ten o’clock the next morning. 

As it would be unsafe to travel over the mountains by 
night, we decided to stay in the house to await the possible 
return of Dingley and Kingsbury, although we felt pretty 
certain that they had left for parts unknown. 

Before daylight we made a visit to the facte ry, going in 
by way of the back door in the lower office. The sight that 
met our eyes confirmed our suspicions as to the departure 
of the conspirators. Every piece of the delicate and valu- 
able machinery had been smashed and removed, and not a 
vestige of a diamond did we find. 

The next morning, leaving affairs with the justice in such 
a shape that he could have them brought before the grand 
jury at its next sitting, Harry and I drove over to the Junc- 
tion in time for the ten o’clock train back to New York. 
At the station we inquired if any one had left by train the 
day previous, but from descriptions given us we were sure 
that none of the passengers were our friends. We learned 
afterward that the team connected with the “ castle ” had 
been found at a hotel near the railroad crossing a con- 
siderable distance away. 

Home again, I laid the entire matter before my firm 
and they very energetically pushed the search for Charles 
Disstow, 

After considerable advertising they placed themselves in 
correspondence with a private asylum in West Virginia, 
and the release of Charles Disstow resulted. Upon investi- 
gation it was proven that he was not or never had been 
insane, having been placed in the asylum by Dingley and 
Kingsbury after they had learned of his inheritance, which 
they hoped by this means to secure. 


1 12 


Upon his release Mr. Disstow went direct to New York, 
where he was given all his papers, etc. He soon thereafter 
established his identity, and received the full amount as 
cabled to his credit from Liverpool. 

The accounts of my firm which he knew to be correct, 
were settled in full, and a new factory started nearby, in 
which he manufactured all fine instruments for scientific 
purposes. Much material was brought from the castle,” 
and the place was left to decay. , Nothing was ever heard 
of the arch conspirators who were foiled by our timely 
intervention. 

As for myself and Harry, we would not sell our interest 
in the Disstow Manufacturing Company for a large sum. 


KITTLE NELL. 


LITTLE NELL, 


OW differently we see things after a space of years ! 



1 1 The lapse of time, the experiences of life and their 
lessons leave impressions, — good or bad, — that make or 
mar the serenity of old age. 

Once past the halycon days, advanced in life, not one 
but has recalled, under some condition or other, the youth- 
ful scenes or recollections of home surroundings, of cherish- 
ed ones, — father, mother, sister, brother, a near relative^ — 
or of a particular incident in connection with home life. 

Recalling my own experiences, I remember several 
episodes in a child’s life, which, while they amused at the 
time, were forgotten until the thoughts of youth crowded 
upon a mind engaged with sterner pursuits. 

Nellie , dear little tot, was the child of tenants on my 
father’s farm. I reccollect coming upon her one morning, 
bare of foot and dirty, sobbing as though her little heart 
would break. Her chubby little cheeks were streaked 
with dust and tears, and her frock was dirty and torn. 

Why, Nell,” I asked, “what in the world is the matter? 
What are you crying about ? ” 

It was a long time before she would answer, but finally 
she blurted out, between her sobs : 

“ Dad, — he — he whipped ’ee ! ” 

She would not say more, and somehow I really felt sor- 
ry for her and her childish woes. 

With some coaxing she began to smile and peep through 
her dirty fingers at me. When I had won her confidence 
I took her home. 

“ Dear me, Edith ! who have you there ? ” exclaimed 
mother. 


ii6 


Father near burst his sides laughing at what he called 
my “ stray cosset.” Dear old man ! Many a time has he 
put himself out to make it bright for others. 

Nell was a sturdy little urchin, as straight as an arrow, 
and full of grit. Washed and with a clean “ fo’ck,” as she 
called it, she was a surprise, and it was not long before she 
was a favorite with all. 

She very quickly got over her shyness, and became 
thoroughly spoiled, and the centre of attraction. And she 
soon knew her importance. 

The boys teased and spoiled her entirely. Mother 
petted her. Father gave her pennies until her eyes shone 
with the unexpected wealth. To me she always came when 
in trouble. 

“ Edie, ’oo love ’ ee,” she would say nestling her golden 
head close to me, where she would stay, as quiet asa mouse. 

“ Edie ‘ pit -fire,” she would say when she saw me pro- 
voked at anything. “’At ’oo mean ? ’Oo bad,” and then 
would look so sorry and sweet that I would catch her up 
and hug her, in a good humor immediately. 

Nell’s blue eyes were full of mischief, and fairly danced 
if able to execute some plan of her own directly in op- 
position with all accepted ideas of correctness. 

“ If I could on’y f ’ow straight,” she wailed, “ I don’t care 
nucken to kick a foot-ball, if could on’y f ’ow.” 

She was very imitative, — for good or bad, — and the 
shocking things she would do and say, as she learned them 
from all hands, made mother hold up her hands in horror. 
But even for the bad things she would do, — in her inno- 
cence, — one was unable to punish her. 

I remember once, in particular, when Thomas, the 
groom, was attending a sick horse, Nell watched him pour 
the necessary medicine down the not very willing animal’s 
throat. With hands behind her .back, Nell watched the 
operation without a word. 


Later in the morning, we wanted her. Calling and get- 
ting no answer, we hunted high and low. After a diligent 
search, we found her at the kennel of a big mastiff. 

The dog sat upon his haunches, his front paws braced 
solidly, with Nell tugging at his mouth; in her hand she 
had a bottle of Thomas’ horse medicine, vainly trying to 
pour its contents down Jack’s mouth, repeating : 

“ Ope’ ’ee mouse, ope ’ee mouse, and take ’ee med’sin’ ! 
Will ’ee ope’ ’ee mouse, I say ? ” 

And she would stamp her foot and hang on, not in the 
least afraid, while Jack and the numerous other dogs 
enjoyed the performance with almost human intelligence. 

The same dogs had a good meal at Nell’s expense one 
day, and it happened this way. 

Father had been making presents of provisions to some 
of his tenants, and Nell as usual, knew all about the affair. 

Later in the day we heard a great commotion, and, look- 
ing Qut of the window, saw Nell kicking and commanding 
the pack to desist from stealing a huge ham from her. 

“Loose it, I say, loose it ! ” she ordered of Jack, as he 
made a ^rab at the choice morsel, upsetting Nell, who 
clung to the ham for dear life. 

“I ’uz going to div it to Mis’ Haynes,” she sobbed as 
we rescued her and her precious load, “ she poor, and ain’t 
got nucken, and they gone and dirtied it all,” and her eyes 
flamed and she looked daggers at the dogs. 

“ Well,” said father, as he gazed at the wreck, “ there 
goes one of my best hams, but I suppose it’s all right.” 

Nell was the soul of generosity, and a fit act of hers, on 
a par with the ham episode, was when she came home from 
the gipsy camp in the hollow, with nothing on but a short 
slip, having given all the rest of her clothes and her 
shoes and stockings to a ragged little gipsy child. 

Did the boys tease or threaten her with a whipping, she 
would up with her fist and say, “ ’Oo dare ! Me tell Edie ! ” 


ii8 


If she wanted to go anywhere, she went. Did coaxing 
fail, assertion didn’t, and not one could resist her. 

After she had been around us for over a year, father was 
taken sick and had to lie abed most of the time. Nell was, 
as you can readily imagine, the life of the sick room ; and 
when the spring flowers first appeared, early every morning 
the child would gather all she could and bring them to the 
steps leading to his room, saying : 

“ Is ’oo up yet ? 1 got ’oo fr’owers. May I turn in ?” 

“ All right Nell, come up ! ” would be her bidding to 
come. 

“ All yite ! I’s a-tummin’,’’ and soon her cheery face 
appeared, hugging in her arms the thoughtful gift. 

Up before all in the morning, she came over to the 
house, and, if I was late in coming down, she would stand 
at the foot of the stairs and call out, “ Does I see b’ight 
eyes tummin’ down ’tairs ! ” Edie, I mean ’oo — does I see 
b’ight eyes tummin’ down ’tairs ? ” • 

Like the rest, she too had sickness, being troubled with 
throbbing headaches. Many a time have I held her head 
for hours to comfort and ease her, her appreciative, disposi- 
tion craving untold caresses when ill. 

It is a long time since last I saw little Nell. That last 
time was under peculiar circumstances, and, true to her 
nature and affection, she left with me words that have been 
dearly cherished. 

I have been far from home since, but my recollections 
have been many, and my thoughts deep. 

As for little Nell, my heart yearned towards her when I 
came across her sobbing, and in distress ; she is older now, 
but it yearns for her to-day. 

God grant that her paths have been the paths of peace 
and pleasantness ! 

She made joy to enter the hearts of others. 


THE OCTOPUS SYNDICATE igoo. 






l; .7 



THE OCTOPUS SYNDICATE igoo. 


IX or eight men sat playing at the seductive game of 



O poker in a cosy room in one of the largest clubs in 
New York. Poker is the pet game of the very wealthy, but 
it doesn’t interest them long. They are too sharp to in- 
volve themselves deeply, and on account of their reputa- 
tion few care to take a hand with them. So when our 
friends had lost and paid with their I. O. U.’s all they felt 
able to lose that day, and the player who found himself 
ahead of the game was explaining that his winnings just 
made him even, they fell to complaining about the hard 
times and wondering what they should do next to set them 
on their feet. 

You see these men were all peers in the financial world. 
Putting into a little corner all the gold, silver, trusts and 
commodities of the country, and squeezing out the where- 
withal to buy a state, an ocean or other little plaything, was 
as nothing to them. They were tired of it. Beside, they 
had taught so many their same tricks, that the pupils were 
a little further advanced than the teachers. This made 
them all wary, where once they trod boldly, and it was as 
hard to get up a deal as it was a little game of bluff. 

Another thing, each would have liked to make a start 
where he was not well known. Dodging cranks, dynamite 
bombs and pistol balls, threatened to occupy all their spare 
time, and he was certainly not a healthy occupation. 

While sipping, lemonade- claret and mint juhp and 
munching pretzles after the game, a small, keen-eyed young 
man appeared upon tne scene and began talking in an 
excited manner. 


122 


This small, keen-eyed man had everything at his fingers 
ends. Knew everybody ; what they thought ; what their 
friends thought ; what people didn’t think ; and what they 
should think. The financiery world was a huge checker- 
board to him, on which he could see all the moves of the 
mightiest schemes on foot. In fact, he knew everybod’y 
business, and if he didn’t, made it his business to find out, 
even if he had to accuse them of a lie to make them tell 
the truth. His stairway to his position as leader of this 
choice coterie savored strongly of a paneling of blasted 
hopes — not his own however, and each step bore some 
device that to-day is not as strange as it was in the time o£ 
which I speak. At any rate, he gave out that he had just 
obtained possession of facts that would enable them to pur- 
chase valuable tracts of unclaimed land, covering about 
three hundred thousand miles in area, for a mere nothing. 
What then ? Well, that he should keep to himself unless 
they agreed to go in with him and make the purchase. If 
they would, he had one of the grandest schemes to propose 
that man ever conceived, much less undertook to execute. 

All agreeing, he named the price at which he could pur- 
chase if they would but raise the money. This set them to 
thinking. One said he was a little strapped, but had a fran.- 
chise to cross the tracks of the S. & P. railroad line. He 
would begin to construct his road and he thought the S. & 
P. people would be glad to have him quit ; this he would — 
for a consideration. 

Another had charge of the estates of some widows and 
orphans. He thought he could manage to possess nearly 
all the equity by the time the money should be needed. 
Another was a director in a bank, and knew he could vote 
himself a sum sufficient to hold up his end. And finally, 
the pool was turned over to the small, keen-eyed young 
man, who made the purchase. A company was then 
formed, with sweeping articles of incorporation ; the shares. 


23 


in blocks, having “ In consideration for property pur- 
chased " marked all across their face. 

Then he unfolded his scheme, which, after its magnitude, 
was fully understood, was heartily applauded by the coterie, 
■who then adjourned for lunch. 

One day, after weeks of planning and hard work, a special 
railway train carried a party of gentlemen on a little trip, of 
perhaps a thousand miles. En route they were all the 
time examining charts and maps and consulting important- 
looking legal documents with red seals and tape and 
scrawling names and lots of typewriting. Every man’s 
face wore a triumphant but weary look. On one map, that 
which they turned to most frequently, was a perfect square, 
outlined in blue ink. 

In the centre, was unmistakably a site for a large city. 
About it was plenty of space, allowing ^or steady growth in 
size. At stated intervals were other cities laid out and 
named, streets and all. About the whole, following the 
square, was a wide margin or roadway. At certain points 
in all the towns as laid out could be seen black squares and 
oblong stretches. At intervals along the outer margin, the 
three large rivers, and at other places was the word “ re- 
served.” Arriving at the central site in the territory, weeks 
of surveying, locating^ plotting and planning ensued, and 
then actual work began. 

First, the Syndicate Real Estate, Mortgage, Loan In- 
vestment and Title Company was furnished with handsome 
quarters in the central city ; a fire and life insurance com- 
pany was formed; then a railroad main line was built. 
Tunning straight across the square, connecting with all the 
important lines in touch with the east and west. 

A complete electric railway ran about the space marked 
roadbed ” in the map, and had branches to and from all of 
the towns. 

Easily reached by rail, at various intervals were estab- 


124 


lished brick yards, stone quarries, foundries, glass works 
and other industries sufficient for the immediate needs of 
the territory. 

Each town was equipped with wholesale lumber y^d, 
grocery, liquor store, abattoir, drug house, theatres, 
churches, gas manufactures and electric light plants and 
waterworks were also established. 

These, as above set forth and as thought of from time to 
time, were owned by the syndicate and controlled by one 
of the members and numerous assistants — all in the 
family. 

There was some serious talk of putting the sun and 
moon on a string, so that they could be then better con- 
trolled, but as the wishes of the members themselves might 
not agree, to promote harmony this idea was aban- 
doned. 

In establishing a government that of a monarchy was 
followed as closely as possible. Of course some deviations 
made and respect for several customs were adhered to for 
the sake of their good effect. The seat of executive power 
was at the central city. TJie smaller towns were governed 
by a Mayor, three citizens, constituting a governing board, 
a board of assessors, a police force and a fire depart- 
ment. 

The head man at the central city was the small, keen- 
eyed young man, and the heads and boards in the other 
cities were controlled by members of the syndicate. 

Tax rates were then fixed, railroad rates scheduled and 
the general policy mapped out. 

Finally, everything being in readiness, couriers were des- 
patched far and near to notify and to attract settlers to this 
elysium created for their benefit. 

Free excursions were inaugurated, balloons sent up and 
every possible attraction advanced to induce merchants and 
others to take up with the new innovation. 


125 


The Syndicate Real Estate, Mortgage, Loan Investment 
and Title Company opened its office and did a thriving 
business. 

All the lots and parcels of land not reserved sold rapidly. 
Money was loaned at heavy premiums. 

Frame houses, brick houses and stone houses were 
’erected like a story in the Abrabian Nights tales. If for 
any reason the builders were unable- to pay for material, a 
mortgage was made to the syndicate covering the amount 
of the expense. Should the interest not be forthcoming the 
syndicate simply took the property as it stood, and rented 
it or sold it. Everything was high in price, because of 
extra quality, so there was little equity after a property was 
sold at public sale. 

After the back lots were sold then commenced the bar- 
gaining for the principal lots on the main streets and along 
the railroads and rivers. These, of course, were owned by 
the small, keen-eyed young man and his friends, and were 
mortgaged to the government to avoid tax rates. 

Money commenced to roll into the coffers of the various 
branches of enterprise controlled by the syndicate. Gas 
was furnished at the rate of five dollars per thousand feet 
-and electricity at two dollars per hundred amperes, measured 
through patent windmill metres that revolved ceaselessly, 
and prices were still advancing. 

Sundry improvements, such as sewer systems, street pav- 
ing, etc., were advocated and laid out at the expense of the 
cities, the work being done by contractors in the employ of 
the syndicate and charged to the properties benefited. The 
people were real tame and made no objections. Any sign 
of opposition to the moves of the syndicate, or the concerns 
owned by them, resulted in the would-be oppositionists 
having their interest and premiums increased. If a rival 
concern did start, the tax assessors looked to it that their 
franchise was very valuable. 


126 


Only consumers were wanted. The syndicate felt thor- 
oughly able to fill all the offices of producers. 

As their holdings decreased, taxes and prices on coal, 
water, gas, etc., increased. 

Things went on thus for a number of years and the 
accounts of the chartered company were enlarged in round 
numbers to several hundred billion dollars and were still 
increasing. 

Ordinary mortals, after such signal and material triumphs, 
would have been satisfied. Not so with the syndicate, how- 
over. Their goal was yet to be reached. Those on the 
top wave were so well satisfied that no attention whatever 
was paid to the thundering mutterings of the populace. 
Some wise heads in the rank and file began to obtain in- 
sight into the methods being employed, and thought it 
high time to have the enormous profits of the syndicate 
•curtailed. There were no geese to cackle to save Rome. 
There is always a turning point in lives of individuals and 
in the management of affairs, that portend for good or evil, 
for failure or success. It is generally a simple thing, but it 
is effectual. The more trifling it appears the better enter- 
ing wedge it is and commences a swelling that is 
“ wisible." 

There came over the people an insane desire to become 
the possessors of little patent pin wheels. Each pin wheel having 
a balloon attached. Men, women and children went wild 
over the baubles and would have them at any cost. This 
fad, reaching the ears of the syndicate, they bought the 
patent at an enormous sum and started their manufacture, 
erecting large works throughout the territory. Of course, 
the balloons attached to the pinwheels, caused large 
numbers to be carried into air, and the ram and dampness 
spoiled countless thousands besides. At certain intervals 
the manufacture of the toys was stopped, when prices 
immediately advanced. Like every other fad, however. 


127 


this one, too, died oat. Tne syndicate tried to hedge, but 
it was impossible, and it lost something like a hundred 
thousand dollars — an enormous sum, in connection with a 
number of large plants, perfectly useless for any other 
business. Just prior to the collapse of the concern a divi- 
dend having been declared, one stockholder, grabbing some 
outstanding bills, went out collecting. After getting 
enough to satisfy his claim he returned to the office, and, 
tightly holding fast to the bank notes, begged to be allowed 
to keep his due. Something must be done to retrieve this 
loss, or the members would all be sick worrying over it. 

A consultation was had as quickly as the corporators 
could be gotten together. It was made up of excited 
individuals, who finally cooled down as wise heads again 
planned. The following policy was then adopted : 

Large tracts of outlying territory were laid out and con- 
trolled by the syndicate, who then got their henchmen to 
order the railroad tracks placed in other sections of the 
cities. This order, of course, was obeyed, the syndicate 
being allowed indemnity for the loss of its franchise. They 
then ran their roads through the new section, selling the 
lots held by them at an enormous advance. 

The job completed, sewers were ordered taken up and 
larger ones to meet the requirements of increased popula- 
tion, were elected to be laid. Paved streets were ordered 
repaved with a noisless block newly invented by the syndi- 
cate. Also after a system of power had been adopted, land 
was sold along the rivers, and here again the coterie came in. 

A financial statement being made up, the assets of the 
concern showed a profit of five hundred millions, a slight 
advance over the last statement. 

But now the mutterings of the people began to assume the 
proportions of a war. 

Everything they had to use was becoming a burden on 
account of the cost. They asked for cheaper gas, water. 


128 


taxes — and met with no responsive treatment. The syndi 
cate would brook no dictation. Indeed, they organized x 
new system of steam heating and compelled the citizens to 
adopt it. Should the receipts fall off, an explosion or two 
would occur in the town, causing great destruction to life 
and property. 

This did not matter to the syndicate. It was thus enabled 
to sell lots in its local cemeteries. A sale of bricks, lumber,, 
stone, etc., also resulted. As for the damage done, that 
was assessed upon the surviving property owners, or estates 
adjacent, to recompense the syndicate for losses sustained. 

Finally, things came to such a pass that mass meetings 
were held to protest. The syndicate members, finding that 
they were on delicate ground, held a meeting for the pur- 
pose of discussing the situation. All sorts of propositions 
for restoring the public confidence were advanced, but re- 
jected. At last the small, keen-eyed young man arose and 
said: “ Gentlemen, there is but one more move for us ta 
make. We have been successful, but our efforts are not 
being appreciated. The people, whom we have made pros- 
perous and happy, are bent on undermining us. Let us 
abandon this loved spot. I advise that we send to New 
York all our available funds and to commence negotiations 
to sell to the territory all our rights, titles and interests. 
Should this meet with your approval I have one more propo- 
sition to make, whereby we can add to our accumulations, 
which, although quite considerable, are hardly adequate for 
our needs. I have during the past few months been secur- 
ing a patent on a wind driving and air storage accumulator. 
With this I had proposed to store all the air needed for our 
elysium, to be^distributed through tubes to the populace at 
so much per thousand feet. You, of course, will see the 
economy of this device over the enormous amount of air 
now wasted. In return we should net a fair profit. Now, 
however, I will give the invention to the syndicate and 


129 


make the following proposition : On the outside of our do- 
main let us erect a massive air reservoir of gigantic propor- 
tions, according to the formula I hand you herewith to re- 
sist pressure and expansion. 

“ Let us then sell this and the patented wind-driving and 
air-storing accumulator to a company. We had better not 
handle it ourselves. This company can easily raise the 
money from the grasping people by whom we are sur- 
rounded, by issuing five century bonds to be satisfied by 
yearly drawings for the amount of bond and accumulations 
for five hundred years. This savors of chance and will 
have plenty of supporters who will expect to realize on their 
holdings before they die. 

This is their bent. It is self-control they are after. It 
will result in their ultimate downfall. 

Let us give it to them. 

Are you satisfied with this ? ” 

Knowing that it was a last chance anyhow, the 
motion was put and carried. The company was formed as 
agreed upon, and the judgment of the small, keen-eyed 
young man proved correct. There was a big scramble for 
stock on the basis as planned. The syndicate announced 
their intentions in reference to relinquishing the territory to 
the control of the people, and took Central City bonds for 
all their possessions that could not be sold. 

The people became easier in mind and breathed more 
freely now that they were to take the helm. 

But their security was shortlived. 

The air-accumulator people, having perfected their 
plans, notified the residents in the territory that for twenty- 
four hours they would have enough air to breathe to sus- 
tain life j by that time all the air would be driven and 
stored in their reservoir, from whence ft could be obtained 
only by tubing and metering for the necessary supply. 

Many openly rebelled and threatened to hold out against 


130 


this curtailment of their enjoyments. Others expostulated, 
but where was the use ? 

During the afternoon of the all-important day, the syndi- 
cate, in company with the proprietors of the Air Accumu- 
lator Company, drove out to the immense reservoir, where 
the last payment for the patents were to be made. After 
the ceremony at the foot of the massive walls, and a quiet 
jollification, the party prepared to depart. They had just 
started, when a terrible noise was heard. 

Looking upward, air in the form of steam was seen is- 
suing from the walls. The air pressure and gases were 
too great for the structure. 

A theory of the human mind was again at fault. 

All present recognized the importance of getting away. 

But too late. 

With a rush and a roar the walls gave way, covering up 
and obliterating everything within reach. 

The people breathed again. It was close to the expira- 
tion of the time allowed by the Air Accumulator people that 
the accident occurred, and those who repaired to the scene 
of the disaster had little sympathy to express. They went 
back to their towns, adjusted their affairs to suit them- 
selves, and applied to the Government for admission to 
Statehood. This was granted after long delays. 

The money deposited in New York by the syndicate re- 
verted to the Government. It was used to reduce the 
national debt, soldiers’ widows were pensioned, the Presi- 
dent’s salary increased, the Indians better cared for, a larger 
navy built, silver again purchased at a dollar for sixty-seven 
cents worth, and three per cent, gold bonds issued through- 
out the United States. 

These bonds were gobbled up by a syndicate, who sold 
them to English capitalists. 

It looked black for England for a while, for war was con- 
templated to get the gold back again. 


RD- 43^ 



It was not until a Republican President was elected to 
look after the interests of the people, that harmony was 
again restored and peace assured. 

















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